


Space Apples (Please Say Fuck, Raph)

by Anonymous



Category: tmnt 2012 - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kinda canon compliant, Mutant Reader, Other, Raphael is a Little Shit, Raphael/Reader - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, TMNT, and leo cant forget him, anyway now for the actual tags, fuck i love em all, half of the suggested tags said incest when i typed in brother why, honorable mention for mikey tho, i just shove you in there lmao, i mean i like him but why, let raph say fuck 2k21, oh snap what about donnie, raphael is my favorite and this is what happened, so thats a tag, supportive brother michelangelo, the other tags were abt dom michelangelo?????, there is cussing in this one boys, turtles but put em in space, wtf its for raphael santiago???? hes still relevant???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You've known Raph long enough that you aren't really surprised to wake up surrounded by sentient bugs in space.You're extremely uncomfortable, sure, but not surprised.AKA, you've known the Turtles since season one and I jumped the gun because I like season fourAlso you might be in love with Raph idk he's kinda weird
Relationships: Raphael (TMNT)/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 31
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Episodes 1 and 2

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo I've never done this before on AO3 but I'm stoked to be here  
> Ik there's more TMNT content bc it's 2021 but I'm still in love w 2012 Raph and that's that on that
> 
> Anyway this is more of a pet project than anything and if I get any feedback whatsoever on this I will take that as a go-ahead to get hyperfixated and drown myself looking at TMNT scripts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good God that’s a bug. The guy is straight up a bug.  
> “I am Lord Dregg,” says the bug grandly. “And I have need of your services, human.”  
> You blink. Everything is yellow and warped through the tank. A bubble passes your ear with a hilarious little bloop sound.
> 
> anyway have a season four 2012 TMNT reader insert thing bc it's 2k21 and cringe culture is dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo here i am with A Mess I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I suffered writing it  
> uh also for some reason the website fucked up and as a guest it shows the fic but in my acc it says I haven't posted it so this is attempt number 2  
> also I had to figure out where you were in episode one so if it's short it's bc I pulled that straight out of my ass  
> not the Dregg part that was planned  
> the uh extra stuff
> 
> anyway see you on the flip side

You wake up in total, humid darkness. It’s stifling; you can barely breathe with this thing over your mouth and your skin feels covered in warm wetness, like someone filled a dunk tank to the brim with lukewarm egg yolk.  
“Glad to see you’re awake!”  
The voice is more enthused than you feel it should be, considering that you’re fighting to get your eyes open. You need five more minutes, egg-yolk booth be damned.  
“Now, now,” says the stranger, “None of that. Up!”  
And then electricity.  
His cheer is punctuated by white-hot electrocution straight to your brain, it feels like - you’re burning, eyes rolling back-  
It stops. You’re left gasping into the breathing mask, eyes blurring into coherence.  
Good God that’s a bug. The guy is straight up a bug.  
“I am Lord Dregg,” says the bug grandly. “And I have need of your services, human.”  
You blink. Everything is yellow and warped through the tank. A bubble passes your ear with a hilarious little bloop sound.  
Dregg snaps his weird bone fingers. Claws? What are bug hands called? Do bugs _have_ hands?  
You don’t have time to wonder - the bottom of the tank falls loose and you slide to the floor in a heap of graceless liquid.  
The breathing mask comes off with one harsh yank that’s followed closely by you gagging - a tube the length of your forearm goes with it. You cough phlegm at Dregg’s feet, holding your throat as he begins to speak again. 

“The Kraang tell me you have certain… abilities,” he starts, and you hope to God he doesn’t mean something gross. “I plan to use you to destroy the Turtles, and your assistance will help nicely. Afterwards, we’ll arrange for your release.”  
Of course those morons would be a part of this. Fuck them and fuck this guy.  
“My _release?_ ” Your voice is so hoarse and tremulous that talking takes the effort of shouting. “What makes you think I won’t walk out of here with your head off your shoulders?”  
You’re electrocuted again. You writhe wildly until it lets off and he nudges you with his foot.  
“Vreen, take them to the armory. Arm them with the new gear and then bring them to me for instruction.”  
You have a sudden and violent longing to see Splinter. You can’t remember what happened, how you got here - you’d kill for his counsel right now. You remember your life in Queens, your vigilante nights, your soft, summery days… Raph and the guys, fighting the Kraang-

You shake your head, shoving yourself to your feet as something approaches you from the side.  
Ew what the fuck it’s another bug.  
You stumble back with a shout. The Vreen doesn’t seem bothered.  
“Get back,” you wheeze, “get _back-_ ”  
Dregg strikes the side of your head hard. You go down gratefully.

You wake up dressed differently - you wear a form-fitting spandex-type undersuit with armor pieces that resemble carapace over your chest and extremities. You manage to get upright.  
“Jesus Christ,” you say, and your voice feels stronger now. You feel like shit now that you can actually think straight. “Not in fuckin’ Kansas anymore.”  
You’re on a cot-equivalent in a small room. There’s no light aside from what comes in through the window on the door, and you can see that you’re alone.  
The door opens, triggering bright white lights to come on overhead.  
It’s Dregg, and there’s someone with him.  
“Human,” he says, “This is Y'Gythgba the Salamandrian. She will be in charge of your initiation. Your first send-off will be in three days. Do not let me down.”  
Don’t let him down, you think. That’s almost funny, considering how you don’t plan to lay a finger on the team. The let-down you’re gonna lay on him will be astronomical. 

Dregg leaves before you can let him know.  
“Follow me,” says… Y’G-Y- Crap, she’s walking, follow.  
“I am Y'Gythgba,” says Y'Gythgba, reading your mind.  
“Iggy, then,” you tell her. “Easier that way.”  
She smiles the lizard equivalent to a smile. “Very well. Come along, human.”  
You tell her your name. She repeats it with a little difficulty. Earth names must be hard for someone with no lips, you suppose.  
“I will also give you a nickname,” she says, and you wonder what the hell that’s gonna sound like. “Czach.”  
It’s like the word czech, but all throat and hard vowel.  
“What does that mean?”  
She lizard-smiles again. “ _Child._ ”  
“Aw, what?” You’re offended. Seriously. This is an affront of the highest order. “I gave you a slammin’ alias and you hit me with _kid?_ Ouch.”  
She says, “Rokka rokka.”  
Hmm. That must be laughter-equivalent. You’ll take it.  
“Come, Czach. We will make a warrior of you yet.”

You probably should’ve told her you were in the Queens MMA ring. You weren’t devoted enough to go pro, but you weren’t anything to sneeze at.  
Iggy lays on the floor in a giant heap of salamander alien.  
You nudge her with your foot, offering her a hand up. “So what are you, a mutant? Alien? What’re we working with here? Spider-Man Lizard-type of thing? Lay it on me.”  
She blinks up at you, at your offered hand, and takes it before answering.  
“I am Salamandrian,” is all she says.  
You hum. “Alien, then. Good to know.”  
“You… are more skilled than you look,” she says a little breathlessly.  
“I’ve been told I’m very unassuming,” you reply. “Whatever that means.”  
“Whoever said that was right. You’re surprisingly spry. I will have to tell Lord Dregg of your skill.”  
You frown, assessing her. You figure you’ve lightened the mood enough for her to trust you. “So what’s his deal, anyway? Where _are_ we?”  
Her expression closes. “This is… the warship of Lord Dregg. He is currently on a campaign to conquer the known universe.”  
Your heart plummets to your guts. “Hmm.”  
“He has my planet under threat of extermination in exchange for the military’s cooperation during the campaign and I was stationed here-”  
“Mhm.”  
“-to aid you in exterminating these ‘turtles’ he spoke of.”  
“Hmm.”  
“While I do not have orders to engage them personally, I will be available to contact at any time for assistance or advice. I am well-versed in combat and war strategy, and am happy to help.”  
“Mhm.”  
You might be in shock. Your life is about to downgrade from MMA crime-fighting vigilante to some alien bug’s attack dog.  
“Are you alright, Czach?”  
You nod for longer than necessary. “I might be in shock.”  
“I can show you back to your quarters, if laying down would help.”

Your quarters are shitty.  
It’s a cot and a stack of papers next to it. You think that’s a pen on the floor. There’s a mirror on the wall hanging next to the door. The conjoining room is tiny and has a shower and a toilet.  
“What’s up MTV,” you mutter, “My name’s Czach and this is my crib.”  
Iggy blinks down at you. “What?”  
You try to shorthand the reference and fail. “Earth thing,” you say instead.  
She says, “Ah.”  
You glance at the walls. You're so freaked out that your voice goes flat. “Why is the room like that.”  
“Like what?”  
“Alive.”  
“Oh,” she says, “This ship was actually birthed on Dregg’s home planet.”  
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Right, yeah. Gonna pretend you didn’t say _birthed._ ”  
“This ship is actually a very impressive specimen,” she tries, but you shake your head.  
“No,” you say, “No. Just gonna ignore that. Is it bedtime yet?”  
“Bedtime?”  
“Time… to sleep?”  
“Ah. No.”  
“Of course not, yeah.”

Dregg calls you to the bridge. You swear one of the walls blinks at you as you approach.  
“ _Fuck,_ ” you mutter, with feeling. Not even a day in and you’re so over this you could scream.  
“Y'Gythgba tells me of your prowess,” Dregg praises. It makes you feel gross inside. “You may be a promising investment yet. Change of plans - you’re being deployed tomorrow. Y'Gythgba will escort you to your quarters and retrieve you when needed.”  
You don’t manage to bite your tongue before you ask, “And what time will that be, milord?”  
He hums appreciatively like he doesn’t understand basic sarcasm. Iggy makes a strangled noise.  
“You learn quickly,” he says. “I like that.”  
You can't help it: “ _Ew._ ”  
“I look forward to seeing your good work, human.” He snaps his fingers at Iggy, who takes your arm and pulls you into the hall to safety.

You and Iggy don’t say much on the way - you ask if you get your own spaceship, she sighs that _no, you don’t,_ you groan that _aw, that’s lame._ You were looking forward to a spaceship.  
“So what’s the paper for?”  
Iggy glances at it, one foot out the door. “Entertainment,” is all she says, and leaves. The lights go out almost immediately after, leaving you to grope for the edge of the cot and throw yourself down.  
Sleep doesn’t come easy. You lie in the dark listening to the unsettling buzz of the ship for a long time thinking about Splinter and the turtles and fall asleep with an uneasy stomach.

The next morning doesn’t bring any relief - you confirm that you were not, in fact, dreaming the whole scenario and that your life is, in fact, a fucking nightmare.  
“Come, Czach,” says Iggy, and you think that she’s way too damn cheery for whatever time it is. “It is time for battle.”  
You mutter petulantly, “Time to suck my dick.”  
“What was that?”  
“So I don’t get my own ship and I have to kill my friends,” you say, changing the subject thoughtlessly. “Please tell me I get explosives. Give me something to look forward to, here. A coupon for weird alien fro-yo, even.”  
Iggy’s eyebrows (eye ridges? You'll have to ask later) raise. “You know these Terrans?”  
She pulls up a stack of images on the console she’s standing at. Sure enough, it’s your four dumbass friends, plus April and Casey. Also your dumbass friends. Your six dumbass friends, then.  
You groan. No point in lying now. “Yeah. They’re my best friends.”  
Iggy looks more surprised than you thought she would. “You are not sad to kill them?”

You think you may have freaked Iggy out. She hasn’t looked at you since you left the main ship, and the way she mans the controls as she drops you off on some planet called Xekhla Myr. Dregg’s intel had placed the team here, but something about the place tells you it’s going to be a dead end.  
For one, the entire planet is deserted.  
Also, it’s literally just desert.  
Black sand stretches in all directions. The heat it absorbs is baking you in your carapace armor.  
Looking around, you find nothing. Black sand and a whole lot of nothing.  
Finally, you decide to vent your frustration. You take a deep breath.  
“ _FUCK!_ ” You kick sand, hard. “FUCK _BUGS!_ ”  
You call Iggy.  
“I am currently stranded,” she says. She doesn't sound terribly torn up about it. “I am on one of the moons of Thalos Three. I will send for a convoy for you, but I cannot call a ship here. I will return when I can.”  
Well, that’s stupid. You ask why she can’t just get you transferred over there to help her.  
“I appreciate the concern, but I have my commanding officer here. He and I are more than capable of handling ourselves. The con… be the… ess than a nexton.”  
She hangs up.  
You blink.  
What’s a nexton?

It takes approximately ten minutes of walking before you play your cheat card.  
You think of Iggy’s face, her voice, her gait - you’ve never blitzed so far before, but now is no time to doubt your ability. 

You arrive.  
First thought: _oh neat, made it._  
Immediate second: _oh my God it’s fucking cold._  
The biting wind comes close to knocking you over. Luckily, your suit adjusts to the temperature change relatively well - you go from immobile to shivering, at least.  
Iggy is nowhere to be found.  
“Looks like I under-shot,” you say to yourself. “Went pretty far, though.”  
Whatever, you think. You’ll make it to Iggy either way. If her commanding officer is anything like her, they probably won’t last in the cold. 

You find yourself getting warmer as you trek upward. Your helmet’s dark lens keeps your eyes shielded from the bright reflection of light off the snow, and when you find a nook in the rock out of the wind, you decide to try to get to Iggy again.  
It’s easier, this time - Iggy is definitely close, but when you blitz again, you’re exhausted. Thalos Three must’ve been farther than you thought.  
Iggy looks surprised to see you. You don’t blame her - you didn’t expect to teleport right at her feet.  
You blink, sucking in a quick breath. You almost smile, but remember that she probably can’t see your face through the mask.  
“Hey,” you say. It’s as good a start as any.  
You can’t get a read on how she feels about you being here.  
“What are you doing here?”  
You shrug. You know exactly what you’re doing here. “Figured I’d stop by, see how thing are going. They weren’t on Xekhla Myr, and I had some time to kill. Like, three whole days to kill. Does your boss usually give you so much extra time? Seems kind of sloppy.”  
“Stop talking,” says her comrade. Then, to Iggy: “Who is this?”  
They exchange something in their native language that sounds tense. You hear the word czach, so they must be talking about you.  
The commanding officer regards you again.  
“My apologies, Czach. I thought you were an enemy. I am G’Throkka.”  
The tall man-newt does a weird bow that includes some tail movement. You decide not to be an insensitive piece of shit and try to reciprocate, earning a small smile from Iggy.  
“You may join us,” says Iggy. “We’re after Irelium to repair our ship, and then I can escort you back.”  
“Lieutenant Y’Gythgba, we are getting close to the Irelium. Rokka rokka!”  
So it isn’t a laugh, you decide. You have no idea what the hell rokka rokka means.  
Iggy hums approvingly. “And by now, those low-grade lifeforms are surely frozen.”  
This isn’t so bad, you think. Almost fun.  
Then Raph climbs over the side of the cliff and your small intestines twist into Boy Scout knots.  
“Ta-da!” He spreads his arms appraisingly, like you haven’t started literally dying in your suit. “Impressed, right?”  
You mutter, “More like _de-_ pressed.”  
You’re immediately electrocuted. It isn’t nearly the voltage as it was on the bridge, but it’s enough for you to make a noise and stiffen so suddenly that your joints ache.  
Iggy says, “No, but I respect your tenacity.”  
You try very hard not to jump off of the side of the mountain. Iggy side-eyes you like she almost expects you to.  
In your comm, you hear: “Why do you not attack?”  
It’s jarring, hearing her voice right in your ear like that. You’re jarred. Jarred and staticky.  
You can’t look at Raph. He doesn’t even know you’re here, and you’re freaking out, and this whole thing sucks, and it’s all hitting you at once.  
“Wait!” Raph steps forward. “Before you blast me, hold up. Look, we could all work together as a team, a unit! Even Twitchy over here.”  
He jerks a thumb at you. Ouch.  
G’Throkka looks positively amused at it all. You kind of hate him right now. “Your bravery speaks of a heroic heart, stranger.”  
Y’Gythgba holds out her gun, poised to fire. You freeze. “But you are in our way.”  
She doesn’t fire - it’s like she’s waiting for you to catch up. Raph looks at you, finally.  
“And you?”  
You try, “It’s m-”  
Electricity hits your system harder this time, bending your spine forward. You guess you can’t expose yourself, then. Raph looks at you expectantly.  
You swallow despite your dry throat.  
“I’m here to kill you,” you decide, and tackle him off of the side of the cliff.  
The two of you go sprawling into open air. Raph shouts in alarm, and you regret tackling him if only because you know you’re panicking too much to get yourself to safety. You can’t blitz if you’re panicked.  
“Shit!” You grab the front of Raph’s shell, planting your feet on his stomach as you fight for stability.  
“What the heck was that for?!”  
You’re so pissed - at Dregg, for being a tool, at the Kraang, for exposing you. At yourself, for being captured.  
And at Raph, a little, for not recognizing you. You suppose you can’t blame him-  
He headbutts you.  
You’re almost thrown, but manage to hang on long enough to shout, “You dumbass, if you crack your helmet, you’re dead!”  
He grabs your wrists, flipping the two of you over.  
“What do you care? You’re the one that’s trying to kill me!”  
“I don’t wa-” _Bzzt._ That one almost tickled. “FUCK!”  
The two of you hit an outcropping of ice and fly diagonal. You have to pull yourself together.  
“Leo,” you whisper frantically, “April, Donnie, Mikey, for God’s sake, _GO!_ ”  
You blitz, taking Raph with you and crashing headfirst into your closest friends in a blur of limbs and yelling. You jump to your feet as soon as possible, finding yourself in the middle of an all-out brawl. You hear Leo shouting orders, telling someone to identify you, and you back away from the group to drift closer to Iggy. You dodge a stray blast of ice from what looks to be an _ice dragon what the fuck_ and turn to attack Raph again, but G’Throkka’s frozen body is in the way.  
You can see Raph and Iggy exchange words as you twist away from G’Throkka, a little freaked out. Raph and Iggy turn to the rest of your friends, but before any words can be exchanged you rush Raph again.  
“Whoa,” calls Michelangelo, and you struggle to focus as Raph attempts to put his fist through your face. “Raph’s with the bad guys? Who’s this?”  
“We’re - whoa! Friends now, Mikey-” You kick his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling. “This guy’s out to kill us!”  
He spins on his shell and flips to his feet, losing ground as he hops away from you. You crowd into his space, trying to catch him off guard as you throw a hook directly at his jaw, but something wraps around your ankle and you think, _damn it._  
“Come on, man! Not cool!” You’re yanked to Mikey’s side, struggling against his nunchuk chain the whole way. You reach down to free yourself and swing out to catch Mikey’s feet to trip him.  
You jump to your feet, gauging your surroundings, but Raph doesn’t give you more than a second before he yells, “That’s it!” and tackles you to the ground. 

You’re too exposed here. You kick Raph off of you and, fighting rage, blitz back to Xelkha Myr.  
Heat hits you in a nauseating wave, thick and hot, and you collapse exhausted to the sand below.  
You don’t get up until the ship arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the flip side!  
> oh I should write that backwards.  
> I have no motivation to write that backwards.
> 
> god I could write sm here. so many possibilities.
> 
> goodnight everybody!


	2. Episodes 3 and 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good God what the fuck is that.  
> You stiffen. The hulking mass of metal turns to look at you with an uninterested eye.  
> “What can it do? You know,” says the shark (so they do have multiple rows in there, good to know), “aside from being a snack for the road.”  
> “ _Try_ me, Sharknado,” you tell him, bolstering under Dregg’s eye. “We’ll see who eats who.”  
> and we're off to the races!  
> I'm following the episodes as best I can, but there's not really a lot of places for me to stick you in there if you're working for Dregg (for now)  
> so this one's gonna be episodes 3 and 4 since that's where Armaggon pops in  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two comin at you ;)  
> I figure I owe a quick explanation so speedrun here we go: you're a former MMA fighter from Queens, you've known the turtles since like midway through season one (cue the unsure "ehhh" and Hank Green making a so-so hand gesture), and you were mutated with refined mutagen at some point, gifting you with an ability equivalent to phase shifting (teleportation, control over your atoms, that kinda thing - you could walk through walls if you really tried)  
> I'm trying not to make you some damsel in distress BUT on the other less realistic hand I hate deus ex machina OP readers so I'm trying to walk the line  
> like obviously you know your shit but you're not invincible, yk?  
> anyway hope you enjoy reading it 
> 
> OH SNAP ALSO this isn't beta read bc I have anxiety and like one friend so if I made any mistakes it's bc of social anxiety lmao

You spend the next two weeks training, which means that you see a lot of Y’Gythgba - Iggy. G’Throkka is there too, sometimes - you mainly see him skulking in the darker parts of the ship, waiting for orders. 

You see Iggy when you’re on the bridge, most days - she’s constantly keeping vigil as she watches monitor after monitor of readouts. When you’d asked her what the readings were, she’d told you that they were transcripts of stocks and news and vitals of people from her home planet.  
You told her that was weird, because it was definitely weird.  
“Keeping an eye on the people you live for is weird?”  
The way she said it - the people you live for, not the people you _love_ \- struck something in your head in a way that most things never have. 

It still sticks in your head a week later as you wait for Dregg in the hangar.  
“ _G’mornin’_ , milord,” you say in the world’s shittiest Cockney accent. “What’s all this, then?”  
You gesture to the ship you’re standing in front of. There’s no way this guy doesn’t know you’re fucking with him.  
“You’ll be learning to fly a fighter ship today,” he says, and despite the acute and agonizing shittiness of your situation, you perk up at the sound of that. “The two Vreen here will run you through the tutorial and let me know when you’re ready to fly out. From now on, this ship is yours, for all intents and purposes.”  
You could escape, you think. Fly to the other side of the galaxy and never think about space again unless it was to take your sickass spaceship for a joyride. 

Dregg doesn’t miss the look on your face, for once. “Do not forget where you are, human. You abide to the agreement, and I’ll see to it that you’re accommodated accordingly. If not-”  
You sense it coming more than you actually feel it this time - the hairs on the back of your neck stand up a second before you’re on the floor in a twitching heap.  
“-I can fry your inferior little monkey brain right out of your ears.”

He leaves you with the two foot soldiers. The Vreen haul you to your feet and drop you on unsteady legs, turning to open the ship hatch.  
It’s crowded, you think. The ship is tiny, obviously made for one person and maybe the intent of a second, but definitely not two grim-reaper-looking bug dudes and a human. The sickly, murky purple of the walls doesn’t help the case any. The fact that you suddenly realize that if the main ship is an organism then by extension this fighter ship is also alive makes you feel worse.  
You duck under a Vreen arm as it reaches around you to close the hatch.  
“ _Oh_ ,” is all you can say. Your breath quickens. In the same way that the cockpit is not built for two bugs and a person, you are not built for small spaces.  
You swallow hard as the other Vreen sits in the pilot seat and grabs your arm to tug you over to the console. It gestures to a weird, tear-shaped button and makes a chittering sound that sticks to your spine and stabs fear through your gut.  
You try to shake off the sudden anxiety and reach out to push it, but the second Vreen hisses and snaps its claws at your outstretched hand.  
God what the fuck you could’ve lost a finger.  
“Oh,” you try feebly, “so I _don’t_ push the button. Got it.”  
It points at the dial above the button insistently.  
You reach out slowly enough for the Vreen to stop you and it doesn’t, so you turn the dial. It gestures to the button again. 

You don’t really trust this guy, but you push the button. The ship roars to life under you, and despite your claustrophobia kicking your ass, you can’t help the thrill that runs up your spine.  
The Vreen in the seat pulls you in front of it, blocking your view of the rest of the cockpit and caging you in front of the console.  
You’re nervous. You can admit that you’re nervous.  
“At least buy me dinner first,” you mutter, but it comes out too breathy and afraid to be a jab.  
It nudges your hand over a board of buttons and guides your fingers to press a sequence that you desperately fight to remember. 

You try not to scream when two holes open in the console. The Vreen don’t look fazed, instead urging your hands into them to grasp the controls in them. Your arms are pulled back, hands tight on the handles, and the ship rumbles upward in the hangar, kicking air underneath it as it gains height. The bay doors open and your arms push forward on reflex, steering the ship into open space.  
Once you’ve gotten the hang of it (You’re sure the residents on that moon are wondering what the fuck you’re doing. The Vreen almost look nauseous. You’re having fun.) the standing Vreen clicks its claws and gestures at your hands. Feeling around you find that each handle has a trigger, and when you pull them the ship rocks back with gunfire.  
You grin at the Vreen. It isn’t affected. 

They let you dick around with the guns and loops for a while before they direct you back to the hangar and show you how to land.  
You pull your hands out of the controls and step out of the Vreen’s space. They file out first, silent, and you follow them back to the bridge. 

Good God what the fuck is that.  
“Four humanoid turtles,” Dregg is saying to his absolutely fucking _huge_ companion. “Mutant Terrans. They managed to elude me, so I’m calling upon your special talents. You’ll also be overseeing my newest recruit - another Terran.”  
You stiffen. The hulking mass of metal turns to look at you with an uninterested eye.  
“What can it do? You know,” says the shark (so they do have multiple rows in there, good to know), “aside from being a snack for the road.”

You won’t let that intimidate you.  
“ _Try_ me, Sharknado,” you tell him, bolstering under Dregg’s eye. “We’ll see who eats who.”  
Dregg makes a weird sound that you hope is approving.  
The shark dude turns back to Dregg with a huff, falling back into his bravado. “Oh, I’ve got talents alright. You want them dead or alive?”  
Dregg’s mouth turns upward in a sick approximation of a smile. Tension gathers in your neck.  
“Bring me their shells. You can eat the pink-skinned Terrans they travel with, for all I care.”  
You had a feeling he’d say something like that. _Fuck._  
“Hmm,” says the shark, unaware of your warring inner turmoil, “haven’t had primate for a long time.”  
You fight the urge to jack your ship from the hangar and fly until Dregg fries your brain.  
“Make sure you deliver, Armaggon,” Dregg says, and sends the two of you to the armory. 

Following Armaggon is about how you’d imagine following a refrigerator with legs would be like - noisy, mechanical, heavy. Kind of inefficient.  
“After you, _chum_ ,” he says, gesturing to the open door. You scoff at the joke, but step in ahead of him. You turn around quickly, not trusting him behind you. 

He grabs a missile launcher off of the wall and tucks it into a compartment on the outside of his armor, then busies himself with a display on the wall.  
You figure you shouldn’t dawdle, so you pick up your clunkier armor pieces and start snapping them into place. Once done, you attach a photon knife to the sheath on your hip and slide the enhancement gauntlets Iggy had made for you over your hands. Tapping them against each other twice changes the mode, she’d told you, and you had a few options: stun, concussive, and neutral. You could get more modes the more you showed your worth, rokka rokka, she had also said. 

Armaggon doesn’t wait for you when he finishes, instead choosing to stride wordlessly towards the hangar.  
You rush to follow him, but when you head to the ship the Vreen had shown you how to handle, he calls, “You ride with me, guppy. Can’t have you running off,” and disappears into his ship.  
The stairs stay down, so you guess that he’s serious. 

You board. 

Armaggon isn’t subtle, you notice. He attacks the turtles’ ship like he thinks he can chew it up and spit it out despite the fact that he’s attacking it in a suit of armor by himself. You watch your friends panic internally before they manage to throw him and putter off to a space station about a klick away. 

They enter, and Armaggon titters, now back in the cockpit. You side-eye him warily.  
“Heh, they fell right into my trap. Bagging these galactic rubes will be easy money,” he says, and steers the ship to a dock away from the main station.  
You say, “I wouldn’t be so cocky,” and the offended flash of teeth you get for it doesn’t surprise you.  
“What, you rooting for them? Are they your little _friends_ or something?”  
You don’t justify that with an answer. “I’m just saying that they’re more resourceful than they look. You were hired for a reason, after all.”  
“So you know them.”  
You pull an irritated face without meaning to. Quick, pull yourself out! “No, but if they can be stranded in negative one fifty Fahrenheit on Thalos Three and _survive_ , then they’ve gotta be smart.”

He doesn’t push, instead choosing to scoff and park the ship.  
He leans into your space before you can put your helmet on, stopping you. This close, you can see the rotting gore in his teeth and swallow back a wave of nausea.  
“Don’t get in my way,” is all he says, and boards the station.  
“Brush your goddamn teeth,” you mutter, tug your helmet on, and psych yourself up to kill all of your friends. 

You can’t do this.  
You can hear your friends’ voices on Armaggon’s surveillance tech as he leads you to the center of the facility. Raph is cautious and mistrustful, as usual. His irritable tenor is like a balm, smoothing out your cracked edges.  
Mikey says, “Who votes to go back outside with the Shark-A-Tron?”  
There’s no hesitation from Raph: “Yep. Space shark, here we come!”  
You give a huff of laughter. Armaggon keeps walking.  
An unfamiliar voice cuts in. “Thank you for the information. We’ll just be on our-”  
The accompanying _bzzt_ makes you flinch, thinking you’ve done something wrong, but there’s no pain, so you figure it isn’t you.  
“There we go,” mutters Armaggon. “Finally.”  
“Whoa,” says Raph, and he sounds concerned. “Fugitoid, you all right?”  
_Fugitoid?_  
You ask Armaggon, “What’s a Fugitoid?” but he shushes you. Rude.  
On the device, Leo says, “Donnie, translate for me.”  
Donnie pauses. “He’s saying he’s basically a big walking fusion bomb.”  
You wince. That doesn’t sound good.  
Fugitoid sounds hesitant when he speaks again. “The original intent of my body was to be a fusion generator. It’s why I tend to be a little… nervous at times.”  
Raph mutters, “Great. _Now_ he tells us,” and you can’t contain the snicker that it causes. Armaggon glances at you and you imagine that you can audibly hear your lie breaking.  
He doesn’t get a chance to speak - you’ve arrived.  
Armaggon grins. It’s a nasty thing. “Time for the entertainment to get started.”  
Your brow furrows as the monitor boots up overhead.  
“Greetings, I am Overmind. You have accessed main factory control. What would you like to do?”  
Your faith in the turtles’ skill almost wavers. You dread what Armaggon says next.  
“Alright, let’s start up by ordering me up a gang of Warbots. Objective: hunt and eliminate some turtles.”  
Overmind nails the coffin closed. “Affirmative.”  
Armaggon gives a hoot of victory, looking down at you. His face turns into mockery.  
“Aw, guppy’s first kill? Don’t worry, they'll only suffer until they die.”  
You manage not to make a face.  
“Now, come on. I’ve got some dinner to catch.”

You enter the production line after Armaggon to hear Mikey’s warcry of, “Booyakasha!” and see a blur of orange attack a Warbot model. Armaggon throws himself into the fray, making way to Leo with deadly precision.  
You don’t want to kill them.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.  
“Wait, I’m go-” Your neck bends forward, arms stiff and hands in fists, legs braced to keep yourself standing.  
You gasp for air, shaking your head to get yourself back in the game. Fists up, tap twice for concussive - you jump into the throng, finding Donnie first. You blitz close, fist half thrown before you’re even moving, and Donnie grunts as your hit connects to his jaw. He goes flying and hits the floor in a heap.  
Armaggon saw and fuck you he’s proud. “Nice hit, guppy - keep it up!” Mikey kicks off of his headpiece and backflips out of range in a graceful arc, and you barely look away in time to avoid a katana to the gut.  
You phase and take the sword with you, brandishing it against Leo’s. The two of you lock blades until you push him back with a full-body heave, forcing him out of striking distance.

You pursue, bringing it down on his head with the backside and hitting him hard enough to stun him. He shakes it off, jumps to his feet, moves to attack again. You pull your arms in like you would a block, twisting your body sideways to dodge.  
It’s when you cross swords again that he speaks.  
“Why’re you after us?” He grits out. You’re losing ground as he forces you to the wall.  
“No _choice_ ,” you snarl, and the tell-tale snap of electricity crawls up your neck like an ache. You fight to keep the sword up with your arms seizing like they are and barely succeed long enough to keep Leo from taking your head off.  
You throw Leo’s katana skyward with a cry, blitzing to try to pull the same stunt you pulled with Donnie, but Leo’s wisened up - he takes your fist, twists, and wrangles you into a pinned arm lock on the floor.

You get your legs under you and push your body up, folding over your shoulder to cover Leo’s lock and clasp your hands together. Leo makes a strangled noise as you blitz, throwing you both into open air as you try to kick away from him.  
It doesn’t work - you both go crashing into Raph below you, who shouts in alarm.  
“ _LEO-_ ”  
Leo arches his back, forcing your shoulder away from your sprawled body. You cry out in pain and shock, grasping uselessly at Leo’s ankles with your free hand. You force tears away and try to get your legs under you again, but what Leo says next is the furthest thing from what you expected.  
Leo barks, “Raph, help me! We’re taking this one with us!”  
Raph doesn’t question it - since when was that a thing? - and the two of them flip you onto your stomach. You kick out with your feet uselessly.  
“Keep’em here! I’ll get the cuffs from Donnie!”  
You think, _cuffs?_  
Raph has your wrists in one hand and your helmet pressed into the floor with the other. You can still hear fighting around you - Mikey is generous with his _booyakashas_ and Casey shrieks like a banshee, making for some not-so-relaxing ambient noise.

It takes less than half a minute for Raph to decide that he’s bored.  
“Air’s breathable in here,” he says, almost conversationally, and you immediately know his intent. You can feel electricity at the base of your spine. “We’re all breathing freely. Why not take off the helmet?”  
_I’m gonna be exposed,_ you think. _I don’t have a plan yet, Dregg is gonna-_  
The electricity hits hard, forcing you stiff the moment that Raph gets his fingers under the ridge of your helmet. It feels like you’re dying, this is it-  
“ _Fuck!_ ” You force a yell between your teeth - this is more voltage than it’s ever been and it refuses to yield until your identity is safe again. “ _G-Get your hand off the goddamn helmet, you-_ ”

Raph lets go, shaken. Your head hits the floor with a _thunk._  
You fight for air, heaving and pinned by Raph’s weight and the overwhelming exhaustion from being electrocuted. You pull your left leg out and under you, bending at the knee and forcing yourself up. You do it quickly enough that Raph is caught off-guard and ends up on his feet with you, but his grip doesn’t waver.  
“Leo, hurry!” He shudders as you attempt to blitz and fail. “They’re gonna get away-”  
You headbutt him. There’s a blunt piece at the top of your helmet, and you try your best to get him with that. His grip goes slack as he blacks out, and the moment he hits the floor you hear a voice in your ear.  
It’s Armaggon. He isn’t speaking to you - he must’ve left his radio line open.  
“Well, it looks like my fee just got doubled, Dregg.”  
What the-

“Human,” says Dregg a moment later, and you startle so hard your legs almost fall out from under you. “It seems the turtles have taken an interest in you. Report back to the ship. You’ve done well.”  
You feel inclined to disagree, to say that you really just fought for your life as Leo kicked your ass and Raph got you fucking electro-fried, but you’re too tired to argue. You slump against the wall.  
Just before you blitz, you hear Raph yell, “Wai-”

The ship is almost a relief when you re-appear at the foot of Dregg’s throne, swaying on your feet.  
“Human,” says Dregg appraisingly, not bothering to give you a chance to catch your breath. “It seems you’ve earned their curiosity. I applaud you.”  
You huff something that ends in _ick,_ but Dregg either doesn’t know what it means or chooses to ignore it. Either way, you come out unscathed. Your amazement knows no bounds.  
“You shall have to keep it up in the future. For now, I’ve had the Vreen add something to your quarters for continued incentive.”  
You slow your breathing. “What about Armaggon?”  
Dregg’s pride falls off of his face. “He’s a failure. I can’t say I expected much from an outlaw in the first place. The least he can do for me now is capture at least one turtle.”  
That’s fair.  
Well - maybe not, but you’re too tired to care.  
“I’m going to my room now,” you tell him, and walk away.

Iggy joins you in all her Salamandrian glory while you’re still reveling in the new bed the Vreen brought. It’s no California King, but it’s at least a twin with some actual cushion under your ass.  
“Rokka rokka,” Iggy greets. You wonder yet again what the hell rokka rokka means. “I hear you have made Lord Dregg proud.”  
You don’t open your eyes. You briefly think about tricking her into thinking you’re asleep so that you can actually get some rest, but think better of it. Poor Iggy’s probably just as starved for normal interaction as you are.  
“I don’t know what I did,” you manage to say. “I just tried to do as they asked.”  
“Did you… eliminate any of the turtles?”

Your brow furrows at the change of tone. Hesitant, almost like she doesn’t want it to be true. You take a deep breath and hold it.  
“No,” you sigh. _Thank God._ “I didn’t. Why, you got your eye on one? Rooting for the other guys?”  
You’re half-joking. Iggy doesn’t say anything, and the longer the silence stretches the more you feel disbelief settle in.  
You open your eyes, sitting up to find her standing almost demurely by the door.  
“Seriously? Which one?”  
You try to think back to any interaction you saw on Thalos Three and your chest tightens like it’s preparing to be struck.  
There’s no way it’s-  
“Raphael,” she says, and you bite back a curse. “He calls me his Mona Lisa.”

You’re alone. The room is dark.  
“Of course he does,” you mutter. You gnaw at the edge of your thumbnail, frustrated beyond belief.  
God, that’s just like him, picking a cheesy-ass nickname like that. He probably did that stupid thing with his eyes that he doesn’t pick up on that could down a devout straight guy. 

To be fair, he probably thinks he’ll never see you again or something. Worst-case scenario, he might even think you’re dead. You trust that he would never deliberately hurt you like that, and from what you’ve seen of Iggy… Mona - whatever, you’re not gonna fuck up a good thing. Just where the hell did Raph get _Mona Lisa_ from _Y’Gythgba?_

You mash your pillow over your head. Splinter would tell you to be cautious, take things slowly, tread lightly. He’d tell you to gather as much intel as you could before you left. He’d tell you to cover all your bases.  
God, you miss Splinter. You wonder where he is right now.  
You fall asleep with your pillow half covering your face and memories of New York City behind your eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are yet again  
> oh my GOD what the fuck are fighting scenes and how do they suck so BAD  
> sorry I keep yanking you out of the action but Dregg doesn't quite trust you yet and Leo and Raph kind of beat the shit out of you in this one plus w all the blitzing and fighting you're kinda crapped out  
> I've got a lot of motivation for this rn and I'm honest to god trying to make as much content for it as I can before my brain tries to take a massive dive into another fandom so idk how well my consistency is gonna be here
> 
> okay that's it byeeeeeee


	3. Episodes 5 and 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re tired.  
> Upside: you have hot water in the shower.  
> Downside: you’re pretty sure you’re killing people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back, I say, like I'm not writing these all at once  
> for some reason there are two copies of this floating around??? they're both mine I swear but ig that weird posting gap I mentioned last chapter fucked everything up
> 
> again no beta and again I say that I still in fact have anxiety but I hope you like it anyway

You’re tired.  
You’ve been going nonstop for the past two weeks, following lead after lead on the team only for half of it to be gossip and the other half total fucking nonsense.  
Upside: you’ve been taking out enemy fleets and earning new shit for your room like hot water in the shower.  
Downside: you’re pretty sure you’re killing people. 

The only reason you aren’t 100% sure is because both Dregg and Iggy keep insisting that they have emergency measures, that they’re just being made into an example, that they’re fine, especially when you blow out their fusion-powered lightspeed engines. 

You don’t think they’ve been honest with you.  
Mostly because you’ve got one hand on the wheel of some guy’s cargo ship and the other on the photon knife in his chest, pinning him bloody to the control console. You’re pretty sure he’s dying.  
Blue pulses out of the wound in gobs, but you can’t afford to be fazed - Dregg will electrocute you into submission and then you’ll crash the ship and then you’ll die.  
You steer the ship hard to starboard, throwing the crewmate that tries to enter the cockpit into the wall.  
You glance back and have to do a double take. They look young. Afraid.  
You seethe, “ _You said this was the only one!_ ”  
“You can’t hesitate, czach! Take care of it!”  
You yank the knife out of the pilot. The body slumps to the floor with a wet _smack._  
You can’t do this anymore. 

You’re covered in sticky blue when you step back onto the bridge, and you’re horrified to realize that it’s in your hair when you take off your helmet to address Dregg. It’s tacky on your neck and in the folds of your suit. You fight off the urge to scratch at your skin and beg G’Throkka for a lobotomy via blaster.  
“Well done!” Dregg looks delighted. He’s nothing but amicable when you complete a mission, but when you’d come back last week with a gash from a photon saber deep enough to need stitches, he’d done nothing short of fly off the handle.

 _“You work for me. You are not to do anything except follow orders! You will do-” Electricity arced up your spine, starting just above your tailbone. Your nerves felt like they were going to sear through your skin. “-AS I SAY!”_  
Your scream was bloodcurdling enough that G’Throkka had carried you back to your room and sewn your thigh back together.

You ignore the stitch in your side and the sticky-gross blood soaking through your gloves. You’d killed the entire crew after the pilot.  
Sixteen people.  
You blink at Dregg blearily. Your brain refuses to focus up, leaving you in a haze that won’t clear.  
“The cargo on that ship was important, human. I thank you for your service,” he’s saying now, and you can’t help but think that it sounds very insincere.  
Your voice is hoarse from yelling. “You told me I wasn’t killing anyone.”

Dregg’s cheer falls right off of his face. You try not to expect to be tazed. You fail. Miraculously enough, you don’t get tazed.  
“You wouldn’t complete missions if I ordered you to kill, would you? You made that very clear from the beginning, human.” He says _human_ like it’s a cuss word. Around here, it seems to be. In every bar, slum, ship you stumble into, humans aren’t accepted, and your helmet stays on.  
“So I tried the nice way. The carrot, I believe you Terrans call it, not the stick?” You swear you can see maggots crawling in his chest cavity. You don’t flinch. “No carrot, then. Here’s the stick: your room is back to square one. If you don’t go on missions, I invade your planet.”  
You flinch.  
“I’ll make your next mission easy for you: infiltrate the Fugitoid’s ship. Get me intel that I can _use,_ and when I call you back, you might have your former accommodations. No strings attached, your planet is free.”  
You can feel a plan forming.  
You ask, “When do I start?”

You don’t feel like all the blood washed out of the suit.  
You know, logically, that it probably did. The tacky feeling is gone, but the squeamishness remains.  
Zayfod’s Cantina is bustling today, you notice. More than usual. You stride up to the bar and sit, spinning on your stool to survey the room.  
Belebome is in his booth being a fucking pig, as usual. You see some new faces…

The team walks in and makes a quick line to Belebome. You can barely hear them over the bustle, you can barely see them through the throng, but you can always find Mikey.  
“Mind if I have a little bite? Ow!”  
Belebome’s obnoxious voice carries: “You best step up off my Vanarian muffins, son!”  
Raph speaks next, and it takes a lot not to throw yourself at him. You’re caught between punching him and hot glueing yourself to the back of his shell.  
He sounds agitated. “Mikey, what is going on in your head, man?”  
You watch them converse, wondering at the best course of action until a fight nearly breaks out between Mikey and Belebome. You almost cut in, but the team cools off and leaves before you can formulate a plan.  
Dammit, this is hard.  
You hear Belebome call the Neutrinos, and all is well again. 

Stowing away on the Neutrino ship is a lot harder than expected - they’re unsurprisingly very thorough with security.  
You manage to board by the skin off your back - you managed to find a vendor beforehand with the device you had in mind (the lady swore it wasn’t a shrink ray, but what does it do? It shrinks things using a ray, so it’s a shrink ray. God. Forty minutes wasted on that.) and shrunk yourself to size, but blitzing is unstable when you’re so small, so you overshot and hit the empty bridge, which of course meant that you absolutely had to panic and stow yourself under the control console before any of them could notice. 

You kill one of the Neutrinos upon arrival. In your defense, it’s mostly an accident. They had all stood, one pointed at you and made a weird blip noise, you freaked out and stabbed him before running off of the ship.  
He might not be dead, now that you think about it.

You find yourself in what looks to be Mikey’s memory sector. There’s faint retro video game music playing as you navigate, and you stumble in and out of memories.  
Most of them are happy - Mikey eating pizza for the first time, Mikey listening to music while Splinter made an example of him, Mikey hanging out with Ice Cream Kitty.  
Some of them are melancholy - the first time they’d almost lost Splinter, the time they’d almost died because of dream beavers.  
Your chest is tight, suddenly. You’re grateful to see NYC again, even if it’s through Mikey’s kaleidoscope lens. 

Finally, you find the team. The four of you step into the next dream together, though they don’t know you’re there. You’re so relieved that just seeing them okay is enough to floor you. 

Then Earth is sucked into a black hole. A team of six teenagers starts an adventure.  
You freeze. Is this real?  
Donnie and Leo’s heads bow. Raph doesn’t say anything. After a moment, the memory ends, and they continue on while you’re stumbling through the wake of what it all means.  
Just how the hell did you get here?

You haven’t been following the conversation. They’re talking about where to follow Mikey, so you figure you should listen in.  
Leo says, “Maybe Mikey’s inner self is hiding out in his-”  
Mikey screams distantly. The team tenses.  
“Mikey!”

You try to follow, but the Neutrinos burst into the sewers and you aren’t quick enough to get up the shaft with the guys.  
You stop to think, pacing in Mikey’s memory of the lair.  
“The deepest part of the mind is the subconscious, right?” You think. Yikes. You’re rusty on Mikey knowledge. Where would he- “His room!”  
You storm his bedroom. The edges of the memory start to crumble.  
_Fuck!_  
How was that wrong? You don’t-  
The kitchen. The _freezer._  
You throw the door open with a grin. The thing in the freezer meows delightedly.  
“Ice Cream Kitty!”  
The memory shudders. ICK grabs you by the carapace armor and yanks you into the freezer. The door snaps shut. 

The freezer must be huge to Mikey - the lights come on to reveal red, spacious walls and a checkered tiled floor.  
You squint upwards. You can’t find a ceiling. 

Looking around, you see that it’s just you in here.  
You turn around.  
Well-  
“Olleh!”  
You and this guy.  
It’s Mikey, but not quite. He’s speaking backwards and his movements are all jagged. You step away from him as politely as possible.  
“Sorry, wrong Mikey. I, uh-”  
You stall. There’s a very large Mikey sitting on the floor. He’s eating pizza like he’ll die without it.  
You think about it.  
_Maybe he would._  
“Not right, either.”  
A foot nearly kills you. Literally. That’s a leg longer than you. It’s connected to a very tall, very angry Mikey.  
“Who’re you calling not right?!”  
You pull a face. A tiny Mikey dressed like Turflytle hits you in the side of the helmet.  
“And who’re you, buzz buzz? Only me and my homies are allowed in here, buzz buzz!”  
You go to remove your helmet. There’s no electricity the moment your hands touch the ridge. 

You must be too small. The device won’t pick up Dregg’s signal and he can’t hear you.  
_I’m safe._  
The relief is revolutionary. You yank off the helmet. Your hair is longer than it’s ever been, you notice - you haven’t paid attention since you woke up, but it flutters past your shoulders.  
It doesn’t stop the Mikeys from recognizing you at once.  
“DUDE!”  
Turflytle hits you in the side of the head again. “I thought you were gone forever, buzz buzz! Mikey’s gonna be so stoked to see you, buzz buzz!”  
You blink. “Mikey? Aren’t you all... Mikey?”  
The tall one shakes his head. “We’re fragments! Hypothetical mental pieces that make up Mikey! The truest Mikey is in there!”  
He sounds pissed, but there’s a door where he points.  
_Mikey’s Imagination,_ it says. It’s tiny and lopsided. 

You should’ve known.  
“Right,” you say, “yeah, of course. Would’ve been my first guess.”  
This is like… Alice in Wonderland, you think, and push the door open. 

You stumble out onto the other side and nearly fall over.  
Good _God_ what the fuck.  
Everything is bright and hard to look at. There are action figures and cartoon characters and talking slices of pizza. Old enemies and friends lounge on lawn chairs and bean bags playing retro video games and pinball.  
You put your helmet back on and start to walk. A giant Ice Cream Kitty waves at you enthusiastically. You wave back.  
“Where is Mikey?” You ask ICK.  
ICK licks its maw and blinks at you, because of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“No wonder he ran away scared. He’s just a little Mikey!” That’s Raph - you duck behind a pizza tree (you shouldn’t be surprised that they’re in here) and hope to God nobody sees you.  
It works - you watch Leo, Raph, and Donnie turn their backs to you and start a conversation with Mikey.  
It’s game time. 

The first step in your plan is complete - find somewhere to hide out.  
Step two - stay hidden until nightfall.  
Step three - reveal yourself to the team and pray they allow you to stay. Lie through your teeth to do so. 

It looks like it’s going to be easy peasy until Mikey screams. The Neutrinos are invading his imagination and tearing the edges apart.  
You almost jump into action, but the team gets there first. You watch as a fight breaks out - Raph and Leo engage for about a minute or two before Raph calls to Donnie, frustrated.  
“Still can’t get through their armor, Donnie!”  
Donnie almost takes a hit directly to the face.  
You aren’t paying attention to Mikey.  
You should’ve been. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” says a voice behind you, and you whirl around to come face-to-face with yourself.  
You tense. It’s the you from New York, still in high school, still soft around the edges. Pre-space you looks ready to kick you out, but you hold your hands up.  
“Wait!” You duck your head and yank off your helmet. “I’m not an enemy, I just need to hide here.”

PS you considers it. “Why do you look like that?”  
You hear Leo take an arm to the gut with an _oof!_  
You frown, looking down at your gear. “Well,” you say, “A bug space overlord took me on as a… soldier. He’s got an aesthetic.”  
“No,” PS you says, “No. You look tired, or like something big happened.”  
You shrug. “I don’t honestly know how I got here,” you confess, and it feels good to get the words out. “They told me that I wasn’t doing any real harm, but I-”  
You swallow hard against the tension in your throat. “I killed sixteen people last week. Who the fuck am I anymore?”  
PS you scoffs. You let out a wet, humorless laugh.  
“You’re me, somewhere in there. You haven’t lost until you stop being me.”  
Despite the fact that PS you is obviously a structure in Mikey’s subconscious, you’re soothed, just a little. Something big shakes Mikey’s subconscious with a _boom._

Not really expecting an answer, you ask, “How can I get back to you?”  
PS you picks at a thread on your old jeans. God, you miss those jeans. You miss that denim jacket and the headphones around PS you’s neck. You miss that life.  
PS you shrugs, which is about as much as you anticipated.  
You’re surprised again.  
“There’s no ‘getting back,’” says PS you. “There’s ‘getting better.’ I don’t want to turn into you, but I know that there’s something waiting for me after. I know that it has to be better, so I’ll keep moving. Think of it like a character arc.”  
You blink. PS you dissipates into mist. 

Looking around, you find that the Neutrinos are defeated - how long were you talking to yourself?  
Mikey is nowhere to be found. His imagination dims a little, but it seems stable now. Mikey must be awake.  
You choose to put your helmet back on and wander around until nightfall - there’s no point in hiding now.  
Faintly, you can hear Mikey talking. You move closer to the exit and step into his subconscious again. The other Mikeys are no longer present, but Mikey’s voice is louder.  
“Dude, I know what I saw!”  
“You were just imagining it, Mikey,” says Donnie. He sounds dismissive. “We all know what happened that day. There’s no way anyone could’ve survived that.” 

They’re talking about you, you realize.  
“But I _saw!_ Something talked to her! It had weird armor and a gun!”  
That’s definitely you. Thank fuck he didn’t see your face.  
Raph scoffs. “You don’t know what it was? It’s _your_ imagination!”  
“I’m telling you it wasn’t supposed to be in there, man! It was _alien!_ ”  
“Everything out here is alien!”  
“It was probably just an associate of the Neutrinos,” says Donnie. “And we got rid of them, so there’s no reason to worry about it anymore.”  
Mikey huffs, conceding. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I think I’m gonna head to bed. G’night, bros.”  
A chorus of _goodnights_ sends Mikey to his quarters. You can hear him mess around with his armor before his subconscious shakes. 

Mikey appears, eyes bleary as he walks towards his imagination to dream.  
You can’t afford to get caught now - you blitz out, hitting the pillow next to Mikey’s head. He stirs, settles. You take a running start off of the side of Mikey’s bunk, turning the shrink ray on yourself to size up again. 

The floor comes up fast, the impact knocking the wind out of you. Mikey sleeps on.  
You gasp for air as quietly as possible, trying to focus past the ache in your joints. 

Then you feel it - however many hours’ worth of identity reveals and bad decisions you made while shrunk register all at once on whatever Dregg has monitoring you. You bite down hard as your body shakes with voltage, praying no one hears you.  
You genuinely fight off tears when it stops, pushing yourself to your feet on shaking arms. 

Mikey’s room is about what you expected - not quite messy enough for his tastes, obviously, but it looks like it's coming together. You can see trophies from fights scattered on the few shelves he had, and his nunchuks from Earth lay scattered in the corner.  
You stagger to the exit, your hand over your stomach. Tension still curls in your gut from the electricity, and you gingerly reach for the door lock.

“What are you doing here?”  
Jesus Christ alert ALERT ABORT-  
You snap to attention despite the full-body protest you get for it.  
“You were… the weird dude from my subconscious! I _knew_ you weren’t supposed to be in there!”  
You hear Mikey get to his feet. Your head goes blank as it runs through worst-case scenarios. Death by nunchuk seems most likely. The _clink_ of Mikey’s nunchuks confirms it. You mash the button to open the door.  
“Wait!”

You dash into the hallway, striding out long as the lights come on overhead. Turning left, you find a dead end and blitz back to the right, ducking past a bleary-eyed Donnie as he no doubt heads to check on Mikey.  
He snaps to attention as Mikey slams into him and keeps moving.  
“That’s the guy!” You can hear Mikey throw his nunchuk chain and blitz again, further forward this time. Left again finds you on the bridge, face to face with who you guess is the Fugitoid.  
You freeze. Your spine tingles with a warning and you move to get past him, but he trips an alarm that renders the whole ship in flashing red light and warning sirens.  
“ _Intruder alert,_ ” says the ship, and you take a running start to slide between Fugitoid’s grasping limbs and rush the other door.  
Mikey cries, “He’s headed to the common area!”  
You turn into the common area and, before Mikey can see you do it, blitz back to his room. You take a moment of peace to catch your breath, hunched over.  
Casey rushes in, saying, “Dude, get up! There’s an-” You stare at him through the lens of your helmet. The tech assesses him as a minimal threat. Fair, considering that he’s in his boxers.  
“ _Intruder!_ Leo, he’s-”  
You blitz to the common room, taking the stairs up to the other side of the ship and down the hallway.  
Behind you, Donnie shouts, “There! Come on!”  
You don’t think you can blitz again so quickly. You shove into another room and shut the door behind you, finding a workshop. From the pictures of April, you see that Donnie hasn’t changed.  
Raph finds you next, storming in through the opposite door. You immediately turn back, but Donnie is already there, breathing hard, and Raph is closing in behind you. 

“We don’t wanna hurt you,” says Donnie, and Raph snorts. “We just wanna talk.”  
_Go,_ you tell yourself, _please, please go-_  
Raph tackles you from behind. You cry out when you’re electrocuted, shaking so hard that Raph’s grip loosens.  
Donnie panics. “You don’t have to hit so hard!”  
“I’m _not,_ he’s just-”  
You kick him off hard and take a running start at Donnie before blitzing back into the hallway. 

A set of double doors finds you stumbling down a set of stairs to the fusion generator. The space is open and scattered with catwalks, and in the center of the room is a giant orange sphere, burning with energy.  
You stop in front of the generator, heaving with exertion.  
April, Casey, and Leo burst in behind you, and Leo comes at you first. 

You’re experienced enough with Leo to know that he strikes with his left sword first for his combo, so you twist out of the way, tap your fists together twice for stun, and aim a right hook at his jaw.  
He stumbles back, eyes fluttering, and you kick one of Casey’s pucks back in April’s direction and use Leo as a meat shield when she throws her tessen. She curses as she catches it, directing Casey to strike when Leo shakes out of his daze.  
You don’t wait - Leo steadies, and you kick him square in the back to send him at Casey. They both go tumbling over the side to hit the concave floor below, sliding to the center of the room. 

April throws her tessen again in an arc, her opposite hand at her neck. You set your gauntlets to concussive and swat it out of the way before you start a right hook and blitz right up close.  
“You’ll forgive me later,” you tell her, and swing. 

It never connects - your whole body is yanked back mid-strike by a band of pressure around your waist. Your helmet display reads off that this is psychokinetic energy, and you wonder when the fuck that was ever a thing.  
You glance at the door, at April’s face, and struggle against the hold. The best you can do is plant your feet. 

Raph and Donnie burst in, followed by Mikey and the Fugitoid.  
“Great job, April,” says Donnie. “Let’s unmask him and figure out what’s going on.”  
“I got it,” Raph snarks, stepping into your space. “I wanna know why you were after me on Thalos Three.”  
You lean away, knowing the electric kickback is going to be legendary, and he sneers as he reaches for the bottom lip of your helmet. You fight off tremors when he starts to pull.  
“That won’t work on me again, sweetheart,” he says, and yanks. 

You aren’t wrong about the kickback - it’s quick and sharp, and Raph doesn’t manage to get it past your jaw before you scream. April’s telekinesis sputters out, dropping you to the floor when your legs give out.  
Raph doesn’t stop, though - you hear Donnie warning him to, that something’s wrong, but Raph waves him off.  
“It’s an act, or something - I wanna know who’s been following us!”  
His other hand comes up to help and you press both of yours against the top of your helmet to stop him, only getting a few seconds of relief to scoot away from him on your ass before he grabs your ankle and pins you under him with his body weight. 

Someone grabs your hands.  
“Leo-”  
“There’s a reason they don’t want the helmet off. If I can get punched into next week, the helmet can come off.”  
You’re hyperventilating. You can’t reveal yourself to them or you'll get fried, and your fabricated story is going up in smoke the longer you struggle. 

Raph tries the helmet again, rougher this time.  
You grit against the voltage, take as deep a breath you can, and blitz.  
Or you try to, at least - the best you can do is flicker wildly under the onslaught and pray that you’ll focus up long enough to succeed.  
Your back arches, hard, and Leo presses your wrists down. You plant your feet and push up with your hips, unbalancing Raph and managing to blitz a few feet out of Leo’s grip. 

You look at them all, aching all over and undeniably _angry_ at everything, and tackle Raph off of the catwalk.  
You fall to the one below you and his shell takes the brunt of it, but before he can get his bearings you’re already trying to knock him out.  
“Stop-”  
There are tears in your helmet, gathering at your jaw.  
Raph grabs both of your wrists, stopping you. Your head hangs low between your shoulders. Your adrenaline is wearing off. You’re exhausted.  
Nothing went the way you wanted it to. 

You try not to sob and fail, and Raph’s grip slackens in surprise you reach to shove your helmet off with a frustrated cry. 

Darkness rushes in immediately, and you take a little comfort in the way that Raph catches you in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the entire time I wrote this I was thinking "don't rush don't rush doN'T RUSH-" so hopefully I didn't fckn make the pacing at weenie speed  
> update action scenes are still kicking my ass as you can see  
> anywho hoped you liked it okay bye ;)


	4. Episode 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re awake,” he says.  
> “Yessiree,” you tell him agreeably. “Now take out the IV or I’m gonna rip out my vein.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are coming out quick let me tell you that  
> this already has more attention than I thought it would god DAMN  
> ah anyway NOTES: last chapter went a little on the dark side! haha whoops (this one gets darker.)
> 
> this still isn't beta read but I hope you enjoy :3

You wake up in what looks like an infirmary.  
Your hands immediately move to your helmet, but your arms feel like jelly and they don’t so much _move_ as they _fall._

You notice that they've pulled off some of the armor on your left arm to insert an IV and frown.  
Donnie perks next to you.  
“You’re awake,” he says, like it wasn’t fucking obvious.  
You might be a little irritable from the anaesthesia.  
“Yessiree,” you tell him agreeably. “Now take out the IV or I’m gonna rip out my vein.”

He blinks. “You’re… extremely dehydrated-”  
“Then get me water.”  
“The IV really would be faster-”  
“I’ll tell you what the IV’s _about to be-_ ”  
Donnie says your name to cut you off. You tense, eyes wide. The rush of adrenaline is instant. Your heart monitor picks up.  
Your voice comes out feeble. “What?”

He says your name again. “The blood results just came back. Perfect match for your DNA schematic.”  
You sit forward with some complaint from Donnie. “Have you told anyone else?”  
“What? No-”  
“Don’t.”  
Donnie pulls a face. “ _What?_ No way, they think you’re dead! It isn’t fair to keep it from them.”  
“Donnie,” you say seriously, and flinch as a _bzzt_ shakes you. “Do you trust me?”  
He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I do. You’re family.”  
You close your eyes. God, that one hurt. “Then don’t tell them. You’re going to have to trust that everything I’m going to tell them is true, give or take.”  
He squints at you. “ _Give or take?_ ”  
“I can’t reveal my identity. Lord Dregg’s got something on me that gives me a love tap for my effort.”  
_Bzzt._ Speak of the devil.  
Donnie doesn’t look amused. “That’s a little more than a love tap, Slim.”  
Your chest warms at his old nickname. “We can’t all have fun in space.”  
“You could’ve,” says Donnie. He’s looking at you like he’s about to cry. “You should’ve.”  
Your helmet reads, _Surveillance feeds compromised._  
You deflate, close your eyes, and breathe. “You saw.”  
Donnie makes a strangled sound. When you open your eyes, you see moisture on his face.  
“Donnie,” you start, “I’m so sorry-”  
“You don’t have to be,” he says angrily. “I don’t _want_ you to be. He shouldn’t have made you _do_ that. I’m so mad I could scream, but it was you being forced to-”  
He can’t even say it. You look at the wall flatly.  
Your voice comes out as a croak. “To kill.”  
Donnie blinks tears away forcefully. He takes a deep breath.  
“I’ll do everything I can to back you. I’m pretty sure April’s already convinced the team, but they’re waiting for your explanation.”  
“Then what’re we waiting for?” You sigh heavily. You wish you could put your head in your hands. You settle for leaning forward and resting your helmet against your bent knees, offering Donnie your IV arm without looking at him. 

He gets you back in working order, but before you can leave he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. He’s very warm, you notice. You itch to shove him off, to curl in on yourself and recover from the conversation in silence by yourself, but a small piece of you overwhelms the mass and hopes he leaves the hand there.  
He does.  
“If you ever… you know. Want to talk without the helmet, you can come visit me.”  
You smile appreciatively, knowing he can’t see it. “That’s a big if, big man. They’ve gotta let me stay, first.”  
He snorts wetly but yanks you into a hug regardless. It’s a little awkward with the helmet, it’s a little loose with his long arms, but you press into the front of his shell gratefully and try not to cry.  
“Thanks, Donnie,” you tell him. “For everything.”  
“Even for taking your blood without permission?”  
“ _Especially_ that.”

The team looks intimidating from the other side of the conversation. You don’t understand how anyone could willingly go against them without shitting themselves.  
You swallow, trying to keep your posture as neutral as possible. Donnie passes you and goes to stand with the team. You swear you see him give you a thumbs up from the back of the group, but don’t outwardly react to it.  
You can’t make the first move. You have absolutely no idea of what to say.  
For the first time in a while, you realize that you’re afraid. 

“So, stranger that stowed away on our ship via Mikey’s brain,” Leo says suddenly, jolting you out of your realization, “why _are_ you here?”  
“I,” you say, and immediately scold yourself. Fuck this is so hard and you’re so stupid.  
“I need your help. Dregg wants to annihilate Earth. Or,” you make a flippant hand gesture, “he will if I stop killing people, but I don’t _want_ to kill people.”  
You get a quick _zap_ for your treachery that makes you flinch with your whole body.  
Leo’s eyebrows raise appreciatively. Awesome, that’s one. April and Mikey give you empathetic looks, that’s three.  
Casey and Raph are still skeptical.  
“Why were you trying to kill me on Thalos Three?” Raph. He almost looks hurt that he has to ask.  
“Killing you guys was my main mission. He keeps losing his lead on you, so he wanted to keep me... _sharp..._ in the meantime.”  
Raph accepts it with a nod. Casey, however, grins.  
“He told you he’d annihilate Earth if you didn’t kill us? That’s so-”  
Leo cuts him off. “If you say _metal_ you’re taking a course on sensitivity to others.”  
Donnie frowns. “We _have_ those?”  
“We’ll make one.”

You clear your throat. “He only threatened to annihilate Earth when I asked him to stop killing. He was just using the electricity to keep me in line before that, but I kn-”  
You come to a full stop. Raph narrows his eyes, suspicious.  
“I had heard of you guys even back on Earth - you know, Kraang invasion - and I figured you would be more difficult to kill than it was to deal with Dregg, so I pursued.”  
Leo seems to appreciate that. You try not to give a sigh of relief.  
“So what’s your name?” Mikey. You swallow. “If you’re from Earth, you’ve gotta have an Earth-type name, right?”  
Everyone but Donnie assents like that makes any sense.  
Tension curls in your shoulders. “Any intent to give away my identity gets me electrocuted, so no thanks.”  
Raph’s glare sharpens. “Convenient,” is all he says. 

Donnie reads your intent and warns, “Wait-”  
“Hi, my name i-”  
Your knees buckle this time. You barely catch yourself on your hands, gasping for air. Donnie crosses the room in three quick strides and helps you to your feet.  
“You’re still not at 100%,” he tells you, “Especially not with those torn stitches I had to re-sew.”  
Fuck. You hadn’t even noticed.  
Your head lolls forward.  
“Shoulda said somethin’,'' you slur. God, you’re drowsy. “Fuck. Everything hurts, wow. Some newly discovered muscle groups today. Are we done here? You gonna _zero impostors remaining_ me out the airlock?”  
Leo murmurs, “Zero impostors remaining?” but Donnie’s hand tightens on your shoulder. 

“You’re welcome here for as long as you need,” says Donnie.  
Mikey pumps a fist. “Yeah, man! Let’s take down Dregg!”  
_Bzzt._ Ugh.  
“So what do we call you?” Raph still isn’t convinced, you see.  
You tilt your head in his direction to let him know you’re addressing him. “My co-prisoners called me Czach. Means ‘Kid’ in their language, or something. Take your pick.”  
Donnie hums. “Kid it is,” he says, and proceeds to introduce the team.  
You pretend like you’re listening long enough to be polite. Donnie half-carries you to the infirmary, telling you that you need rest and monitoring for nerve damage, and you basically mash A through the conversation to get yourself into bed.  
You fall asleep while Donnie sticks electrodes to you.

You wake up to an alarm. It sounds urgent, so you tear off the electrodes and pull your carapace armor on. 

“...closing on the Triceraton mothership,” Fugitoid is saying when you enter. The team is already assembled on the bridge, listening intently.  
Donnie says, “Your stitches-”  
“‘M fine,” you tell him. “Couldn't sleep. What’s going on?”  
Donnie shoots you a look that you ignore. Mikey snickers.  
“We’re trying to get the-”  
“Black hole generator pieces. Yeah, half the fuckin’ galaxy knows,” you murmur. “The Triceratons have one, then.”

You’ve encountered the Triceratons exactly once up to this point - Dregg managed to get you trapped in the Tri-Arena for a week trying to scope info on the turtles. You lost count of how many people you killed by day three. G’Throkka had retrieved you for extraction.  
You weren’t eager to face them again.

“Yeah…” Leo says, like he didn’t quite expect you to know that.  
He shakes it off. “The best point of entry is the auxiliary airlock. We’ll take the stealth shuttle to sneak aboard.”

“I am certain with 99. 98% certainty that the first piece of the black hole generator is being stored in their main armory. April and Casey will remain on the ship with me and monitor your progress,” says Fugitoid. “Kid, I recommend that you stay to rest, but from the reports of your work that I’ve managed to find, you aren’t good at staying put. I leave the decision to Leo and Donnie and encourage you to respect their decision.”  
You resist the urge to scoff. Like you’ve ever stayed when Leo told you to.  
The two of you square off. Donnie looks like his answer will be _stay._

Casey cuts in before you can argue.  
“Are you kidding? I'm not getting left behind like a chump.”  
April concedes for once. “He has a point, Casey. We're just not as stealthy as the Turtles. But I'm getting close.”  
_Huh,_ you think. _Character development._  
You can’t say the same for yourself.  
“Why does Kid get a choice, though?” And there it is. “There are obviously some injuries there that aren’t healed yet. Plus, do we trust the word of a stranger?”  
She has a point. You wince. Donnie looks ready to say something, but you shake your head.  
You say, “I just want to go home to my family. If it takes a few ops with you guys and a handful of orders, then I’ll do it. Everything I do from here on is in that interest.”

“...You can go,” Leo says finally, but catches himself before you can internally cheer. “But you have to follow orders. Whether it’s me or one my brothers, you have to listen.”  
Leo catches Raph’s look. “What? Teleportation is _useful._ ”  
You roll your eyes knowing no one can see it. Great. More orders.  
“Just don’t tell me to kill anyone and we’ll be peachy,” you tell him. 

The stealth craft is cramped. There are only four seats, so you sit on the floor at Donnie’s knee.  
Leo squints out the front window, looking focused. “All right, guys, Operation Infiltrate Mothership is a go.”  
Raph looks a little nervous, if you know him well enough. “Are you sure we're invisible in this thing, Donnie?”  
_Yeah,_ you think, _he’s definitely nervous._ It’d be cute if you weren’t flying into what you were fully aware was your almost certain doom. 

Donnie lays a hand on your shoulder that you’re sure Mikey can see. Regardless, it makes you feel a little better. “Absolutely! Almost completely positive, sort of-ish. Uh, not - no, uh-uh.”  
Raph’s hands clench on his armrests. You resist the urge to snicker. 

Finally, the ship pulls into its destination.  
“We're at the airlock, Professor,” says Donnie, taking his hand away to man the controls.  
Fugitoid’s voice rings clear through the cockpit. “It appears unguarded, but remain cautious.”  
Mikey, who had been eyeing you, snaps out of his reverie. “Relax, Fugitoid. We're ninjas, bro.”

The five of you board the ship, creeping down the hallway with you pulling up the rear.  
Raph’s voice talking so suddenly startles you. “Okay, we're in. Lead the way, Professor.”  
No one else seems fazed. “Head down that corridor and you'll find the passage that leads directly to the armory.”

“Aww, yeah,” Mikey crows, “This will be easier than stealing pepperoni from a - ah!”  
Triceratons arrive - more than you can handle. You square off into a fighting stance. 

The leader looks surprised, you notice. “What? These creatures? Again?”  
Casey cuts in on the comms: “Oh, no!”  
You resist the urge to snark at him.  
Raph groans. “Aw, space apples!”  
_You_ groan, for a completely different reason. “ _Please_ say fuck, Raph.”  
Raph shoots you a look caught between bewilderment and hilarity. You consider it a win. 

The leader doesn’t seem to find it funny. “Capture them!”  
You narrowly avoid a laser to the face. Leo steps back, thinking.  
Fugitoid comes through. What a guy. “Might I suggest a tactical retreat?”  
Raph sputters. “What? I’m not running!”

“Do what Fugitoid says, back to the airlock,” Leo says, and you turn back. Donnie goes with you but you shove him out of the line of fire, saving him from a shot to the shell. Another squad of Triceratons appears at the end of the hallway. One of them points at you, saying something into a comm that you don’t catch.  
You swallow.  
“Easier said than done, dude,” Mikey complains. He yelps as he narrowly avoids a shot. You run with the team towards the airlock, but when you get there, Raph turns and squares up. You resist the urge to face palm.  
He shouts, “Bring it on, horn-heads!”  
The leader grins.  
“You want the airlock? You shall have it.”  
Leo turns back to you and grabs your arm hard enough to hurt. “You want my trust? Get to the black hole generator piece.”  
Donnie heard him. “Leo-”  
“ _Go!_ ”  
“Don’t die,” you tell him, and his grin is the last thing you see before you blitz to a nearby hallway. 

“Kid!” Fugitoid, coming in on comms. “Do you need direction?”  
You scoff, ducking behind a support beam as a Triceraton patrol passes. “That’d be nice, yeah.”  
April doesn’t sound accusatory when she asks, “Why’d you separate from the team?”  
“Yeah,” says Casey, “You got your own agenda or somethin’?”  
You try very hard not to cuss at him. “For your information, _Casey,_ Leo told me to find the generator piece. He probably figured I’d get to it quicker.”  
“Take a left, if you will,” says Fugitoid. You follow, finding two guards facing away from you. Ahead of them is another hallway, and you can see large doors at the end of it. Must be something important.  
Bingo.

“I think it’s past those doors,” you say. “Just gotta distract the guards.”  
“Do you have a plan?” asks April.  
“Maybe,” you tell her. “Maybe. Let’s see.”  
The shrink gun is still in its holster. Now is as good a time as any to get some use out of it.  
You shoot the guard on the right. His companion lets out a cry of alarm and you shoot him, too, then head for the doors. 

“I made it,” you tell Fugitoid. “How do I get in?”  
“I’m sending coding to your suit,” says Fugitoid, “You should be able to interface with the console.”  
You accept the code and place your hand palm down on the interface. It loads to roughly 40% before something grabs you by the scruff like a kitten. 

You’re turned to come face to face with Emperor Zanramon.  
You whisper, “Fuck.”  
Zanramon hums, nodding. “Yes, _Czach._ Fuck, indeed. Take this one to the Tri-Arena. The crowd seemed to enjoy the performance last time.”  
You’re cuffed and passed to a patrol.  
You turn back to shout, “It doesn’t sound right when you say it!”

You don’t stay in the cell for long. Somehow the Triceratons have figured out how to prevent you from blitzing, but the wait between matches is short.  
“Come on,” says the guard.  
“A please would be nice,” you mutter, and he makes a weird noise. “Yeah, fuck you too, pal.”

“Kid! Are you okay? What’s going on?” Fugitoid. You’d forgotten that your comm line was open.  
“I’m in the Tri-Arena,” you murmur, trying not to alert the guard. “I’ll be fine, but if you guys really want my continued assistance, you might not want to hack my surveillance feeds again. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.”  
April asks, “What does that mean?”  
You don’t answer. Your comm line shuts off.  
You step into the arena. 

The first opponent isn’t anything to write home about. There are a few good hits in - you come away with sore knuckles - but one well-aimed shot and the guy’s head snaps back with finality.  
You go back to your cell with your head down.  
_“You want my trust? Get to the black hole generator piece.”_

“Kid,” says April the minute the door closes, “Are you okay?”  
“I said not to hack my feeds,” you say in lieu of an answer.  
“We didn’t,” Casey defends, “they’re broadcasting the fights across the galaxy.”  
Shit.  
“I’m fine,” you say. “Sorry for not warning you.”  
April sounds a little queasy when she speaks again. You can’t blame her; your hands are shaking.  
“Whatever you do in there, I trust that you’re doing it to help us,” she says, surprising you.  
Casey tries, “April-”  
“I’m killing people,” you say, cutting him off, “I get that you want to put some sort of justification to it, but there’s no good reason for what I do. Not here. Nobody deserves to stand across from me in this ring.”  
“Kid-”

There’s a guard at the door. You get to your feet.  
“I’ve gotta go,” you tell her, and close the comm line. 

On the way to the ring, the guard looks down at you. You look up at him sideways through your helmet.  
You snap, “Yeah?”  
He seems nervous to be walking next to you. “You’re Czach.”  
You don’t want to talk to him. “I will peel and boil your eyeballs, clown.”  
He makes an affirmative sound and his gaze snaps forward. 

The next opponent is a Triceraton that the crowd boos at. You wonder what he did.  
The crowd chants for you: “CZACH! CZACH! CZACH!”

You lower into a fighting stance.  
“Please,” says the Triceraton, “we don’t have to fight-”  
So that’s it. A man born into a war without the prerequisite genetic bloodlust.  
You feel something in you falter.  
The man pleads with the announcer even as the signal sounds for the match to start. You take a step to engage, but he holds a hand out to ask you to stop. Against all reason, you do.

“I won’t fight,” says your opponent to the emperor. “not against a weakling like that.”  
So it isn’t humanity, you decide. It’s pride.  
You pull a face. Emperor Zanramon grins.  
He cries, “Then it shall be an execution!” and the crowd goes wild. 

You roll your neck. You want Leo’s trust, you realize. You want it badly enough to tear the arena apart brick by brick to get that black hole generator piece.  
You don’t think Leo would want you to kill this man. Douchebag or not, he’s got _somebody_ out there waiting for him. 

You take a knee. The crowd roars its disapproval so loudly that the dirt shifts under you.  
“He concedes,” you say loudly. “So do I. You have no fight-”  
You’d forgotten about Dregg for a second there.  
You’re rocked forward so suddenly that you have to support yourself with a hand to the ground, yelling through your teeth. 

You shake when it’s over, rising to your feet. Your eyesight clears.  
Your opponent mocks, “Look at it, it’s trembling!”  
A voice in your ear: “Kill him, Czach.”

You do. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry about this shit anymore.  
A few tears slip, despite it. You slide your helmet up just enough to wipe them away.  
You pull your helmet down and hear, “Kid?”  
April.  
“Yeah,” you say. Your voice has gone flat with exhaustion. “What’s up.”  
“We’re working on an escape plan.”  
“You don’t have to pretend like that wasn’t fucking gruesome.”  
She swallows audibly. “Lord Dregg is a piece of shit,” she says. You hear Casey whistle appreciatively. “I don’t think any less of you because he makes you do things that obviously have you messed up about yourself.”  
You shake against the wall. “Th-” You clear your throat. “Thanks, April.”  
“You’re human, you know. You can be fucked up about these things,” she presses, and you chuckle.  
“Getting a little close to vulnerable here, April.”  
“Please,” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice, “Vulnerable is in the rear-view mirror.”  
You feel a little closer to normal.  
“We’re getting close to a Triceraton patrol,” she says suddenly, and your heart plummets at the thought of her in the arena. “I’ve gotta go. Don’t forget what I said, Kid. Good luck!”  
The line goes dead. 

You wait for what feels like forever before the guard comes by again.  
“Hurry up,” he says. “This is the fight the Emperor has been looking forward to.”  
Zeno, then, you think. That’s the fight that G’Throkka had pulled you from. 

Just before the guard lets you enter, you say to yourself, “Pickled Triceraton eyeballs always were my favorite,” and watch the guard try not to piss himself. 

It’s the team.  
“Fuck,” you say again, and Emperor Zanmaron’s laugh booms over the crowd.  
“And now, the vile mutant terrapins face your former champion,” says the announcer, “The faultless, the dauntless: Czach the Unpredictable!”  
You can hear Mikey from across the ring: “Dudes, did he just say...?”  
“CZACH! CZACH! CZACH!”

You watch the four brothers turn to look at you. Leo winces, and you figure you must be a sight, covered in Triceraton blood with your fists lax at your sides.  
“Kid?” Mikey gapes as you stride forward. “We can’t fight you!”

You blitz quickly enough that they can’t predict who you’ll hit, but Raph lets out a shocked shout when it’s Leo that’s sent flying. You immediately swing on Raph, who blocks.  
He grunts, “You _think?_ ” and you take a fist to the face. Your left hand comes up on reflex and you catch Raph with a weaker than usual uppercut that has him stumbling.  
You twist away from Mikey and kick Raph square in the chest, sending him sprawling. Mikey goes next with a weave and a solid right cross - he’s hesitating because you’re allies. 

You catch sight of Fugitoid in the spectator box with the Emperor.  
Raph gets you with a foot to the head, and despite all reason Donnie shouts at him not to hit so hard.  
Raph roars, “You aren’t getting off that easy!”  
You dart after him, throwing a hit you know he can block.  
When he does, you lean in close on your arms and say, “See the - _quit looking at me like that and listen_ \- you see the bigass gun up there?”  
Raph shoves you off and ducks low for an uppercut that you take by accident, trying to get his response.  
He wrangles you into a headlock and gets close to your ear before he says, “Yeah. Donnie?”  
He’s on the right track. “Got it in one. Get the message to him while I rough Mikey up.”

It’s getting a little hard to breathe, so you go slack in his grip and pull his feet out from under him. He goes down and you’re already on Mikey before you think about checking to see if you hit him too hard.  
Eh, you reason that he’s been through worse. 

Mikey flinches as you swing.  
You feel bad. “Sorry,” you say, and Mikey perks with a smile as he slides around you to attack you from behind.  
“I knew you were a bro!”  
You kick his knee in and he shouts out a pained laugh. “ _Fight!_ ”  
Mikey shakes his leg out. He’s fine. 

He gets you into a figure four leg lock. You wonder where he learned that from.  
“So you got a plan?”  
You see Donnie climbing the gun tower. He starts fiddling with the console as the crowd notices your impending loss and starts to boo. 

Donnie rigs the gun and you break the lock, falling still. He jumps to the spectator box and points the barrel at the Emperor’s head. You grin and blitz up to Fugitoid.  
“Hello, Professor,” you say. He blinks at you.  
“Why hello, Kid. I take it this stunt was your idea?”  
“You think correctly.”

Raph takes the gun and resumes pointing it at Zanmaron, who stands when prompted.  
Raph grins savagely. “One move, and King Dino-Breath gets it.”  
You love it when a plan comes together.  
“Let the Fugitoid go, and we walk out of here,” Leo says.  
Fugitoid looks delighted as ever. “My friends! I was just formulating a most excellent rescue plan.”

Raph hitches a ride on the Emperor’s side and keeps the gun close as you guys start down the hall to the exit.  
You’re stopped by a large patrol.  
Raph grins savagely. “One move, and King Dino-Breath gets it.”  
Zanmaron looks pissed beyond belief. “Fools! You have made a grave enemy of the Triceraton Empire. Even if you get off this ship, there is nowhere in the ten dimensions we will not find you.” His eyes find you. “Do not think Lord Dregg will not find out about this.”  
You cock your head at him. “Once I chew him up and spit him out you’re next on the menu, BJ.”  
You’re rewarded for that with high-voltage punishment, forcing you to a knee. Zanmaron laughs as you shove to your feet again. 

“Watch out! Triceratons behind us!” Casey shouts.  
Raph adds, “Triceratons in _front_ of us!”  
The leader of the squadron calls, “Emperor Zanmaron, hold your fire!”  
Zanmaron froths at the mouth. “No! They have the Heart of Darkness, wipe them out!”

Fugitoid interrupts the standoff with, “This way, my friends! Beep!”  
You follow the team back into the airlock.  
Leo says, “I hope you parked close!” and you realize what’s about to happen. 

April reaches out with one hand. You prepare yourself for zero G as she warns, “Hold your breath, guys!”  
“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding!” Raph sounds pissed. You almost laugh, but then April engages the switch. 

You’re launched into space.  
Less than a minute later, you hit the floor of the ship hangar and push to your feet.  
April shouts, “Hit it, Professor!” and the ship kicks into gear. 

Once the commotion has died down and the team has gathered on the bridge, conversation starts up again.  
“Phew, now that was a close one,” says Donnie, and you’re inclined to agree.  
Raph grins with all his teeth, pride practically beaming out of his ass. “I can't believe we fought our way through the Triceraton mothership and back out again!”  
You could beg to differ there, but whatever. Triceratons aren’t terribly intelligent, considering that none of their security measures changed after your extraction last time. 

April shatters your train of thought. “One piece down, two more to go. Where do you think we'll find the next one, Professor?”  
Fugitoid beeps cheerfully. “I have an idea where to start!”

Casey cuts in on the celebratory air. “I can't believe I missed your awesome gladiator battles! You know, aside from Kid’s.”  
Raph’s gaze snaps to you, as does the rest of the team’s.  
You try not to wilt. “Thank you, _Casey,_ ” you grit out.  
Casey winces.  
“You fought before us?” Leo. He looks stricken.  
“Well, yeah,” you say. “The generator piece was a trap for them to catch me and put me back in. Sorry,” you add, for some reason.  
Donnie frowns. “You’ve fought there _before?_ ”  
You shrug, looking at the wall. “Yeah, but I wasn’t there long. I was extracted before anything really happened.”  
That’s a lie. Donnie knows that was a lie.  
Raph is uncharacteristically quiet when he asks, “Can we see the footage?”  
A chill runs up your spine. Mikey flinches like he’s been slapped.  
“I won’t stop you,” you say feebly, “but I’m not proud of who I am in that arena, and I’d prefer that you didn’t.”  
April shudders. Casey looks at his boots.  
“Donnie,” you say, not wanting to think about it anymore, “I think I need another check-up. Head hurts.”  
Donnie nods. “Of course.”

You’re in the infirmary again.  
“Might as well just make this my quarters,” you joke. Donnie offers a wilting smile that makes you feel instant guilt. “Sorry. Bad taste.”  
He chuckles genuinely this time, and you feel a little better.  
Donnie says your name. Hearing the syllables in someone else’s mouth, someone familiar, makes your chest warm.  
“We need to tell the team,” he says. He directs you to the shower in the corner. You pull the curtain closed and peel out of your suit.  
“We’re not a thing,” you joke. “They’re not my in-laws.”

He snorts, then grows serious again.  
“About you, stupid,” he insists. Your hands stop at your helmet, suddenly nervous. You almost consider not taking it off, but there’s no reason not to. Donnie won’t peek.  
You helmet hits the tile with a _thunk._ The resulting spatter of Triceraton blood makes your stomach roll. 

“You know what’ll happen,” you say, and turn on the shower. You turn it to a moderate temperature to fight the anxious heat under your skin. “Lord Dregg’ll fuckin’ fry me.”  
“If you’ll let me do a few x-rays, I can figure out what it is. We can get it fixed.”  
You step into the spray, letting the water smear the blood into violent watercolor that drips dark off of your skin.  
“If you think you can, I’m all for trying,” you say, but you aren’t hopeful. You couldn’t figure it out in the month and a half so far that you’ve had the issue and it’s _your_ body. Nothing felt _wrong._ Iggy said it was a precaution, but it felt like a ball and chain.  
You’ve never seen her buckle under voltage. 

“We’ll figure it out,” says Donnie confidently.  
You smile. “We always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK THAT'S 5000+ WORDS FOR ONE EPISODE.  
> GOD MY EYES. THEY'RE BURNING.  
> so here we are! the reader is suffering under their sins, developments are being made! a plan is finally in motion, and hey would you look at that there're the turtles
> 
> also you interact way more w Donnie than I anticipated??? I promise this isn't a Donnie fic but I love him and I think he'd rationally be the first to find out whether by accident or intuition and keep your secret if you asked, so he became top candidate for the guy in your corner
> 
> (bonus: Barney references???? in 2k21????? it's more likely than you think)
> 
> on a different note, it's exactly 3am here!  
> (I'll write more tomorrow bc I'm abt to have a CHUNK of free time lads so buckle up)


	5. Episodes 8 and 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s out._  
>  No more helmet.

The team leaves in the early morning to go to Dimension X. You aren’t woken to go, so you figure you aren’t needed. It stings a little, but it’s probably for the best - your stitches tore again in the Tri-Arena and all of your muscles are screaming for a reprieve. 

Casey and April, on the other hand, look pissed about it. You’re coming from the commissary with a blueberry muffin when you hear the rhythmic banging of hockey stick on metal.  
Casey is the culprit, as expected. April stews nearby, reading a magazine. 

You drift over to the console and pull up the planetary news for Salamandria, curious about how the planet is doing without its army.  
April perks out of her gloom. “Isn’t that Mona’s planet? What’re you looking at that for?”  
You shrug. “I heard that there was an internal power struggle. I wanted to check the economy. Seemed interesting.”

You weren’t lying, but somewhere in the back of your mind you knew it was just because your mind was on Y’Gythgba - more specifically, her with _Raph._  
It’s petty and you really don’t think you have a good reason to be upset when it’s been your insistence that Donnie not reveal your identity.  
That doesn’t stop you from thinking about it, though. 

“ _Stocks_ are interesting to you? Get a hobby,” Casey grunts, and one of his plain pucks comes a little too close to hitting you in the side of the head. It bounces off the screen in front of you and clatters to a stop.  
“There’s not much else going on,” April defends. “I find it kind of cool.”  
You scoff. “No need to kiss my ass, I know it’s boring.”  
Casey snorts. April sighs. 

After a muffin and a quick nap, April taps a rhythm on the infirmary door. You sit up blearily.  
“Yeah?” Your head hurts a little from sleep inertia; you must’ve slept for longer than you anticipated.  
“The turtles are back and dinner’s ready, if you’d like to join us.”  
You squint at her.  
“The _turtles_ are back?” You sit up. “ _How fucking long was I out?_ ”  
“Six hours, give or take?”  
“ _SIX HOURS?_ ”

Donnie comes sliding into the doorway, followed closely by Mikey, who looks like he just wanted to slide for the sake of sliding.  
“What’s happening? Are you okay?” Donnie looks exhausted, you notice. Mikey looks closer to the type of tired that leaves you satisfied. He smiles at you as he enters, and you wave at him.  
“I’m fine,” you tell Donnie. Your voice lowers with your disappointment. “I just slept through the whole day, is all.”  
“That’s good,” says Donnie, against all logic. “You needed to get a full cycle - it doesn’t look like you’d had a good night’s sleep in about a month.”  
You frown. Had it been that long?  
“Why not?” April asks. “Did Dregg not let you sleep?”  
“I was out at all hours looking for you guys,” you say. “Among other things.”

Donnie frowns. “How did you get away from Dregg?”  
You blink. “What?”  
Donnie repeats the question.  
Oh. Uh.  
“I don’t really think I did,” you say, and Mikey’s eyes grow round. “He sent me away, but I don’t think he knows I’m directly turning on him. He’s still aware of some of what I’m doing, it looks like. Or maybe whatever’s on me just… knows… intent? I never really thought about the reasoning for being electrocuted.”  
April and Mikey seem to accept that. Donnie, however, keeps frowning.  
“I might need the Professor’s help with this,” he murmurs, “This is more intricate than I initially thought.”

The next morning, you walk onto the bridge at the same time that Leo does. You tip your head in greeting and Fugitoid beeps, catching your attention.  
“Kid, Leonardo, you've arrived just in time!”  
Your eyebrow raises. Leo asks, “For what?”  
Fugitoid gestures grandly to the front of the room.  
Your heart rate spikes.  
“My friends, I present to you: The Cosmic Ocean of Varuna.”  
You have extreme Thalassophobia. You turn away from the window.  
“It’s so beautiful,” says April. You fight off the urge to argue.  
Mikey leans into your space. 

“You okay, Kid?” He takes in your tense frame. “Space is pretty cool, right?”  
“Yeah,” you say, closing your eyes. God, you really don’t want to think about the ocean right now. “Neat.”  
“A vast interstellar liquid nebula in a region of space unlike any other in the universe. Here, within its depths, lies the second fragment of the Black Hole Generator,” Fugitoid continues. You can hear April’s excited gasp, but Mikey doesn’t look at it again, choosing to focus all of his attention on the way that your hands clench.  
“...Are you scared of the ocean, dude?” Mikey grins confusedly. The ship shakes upon entry. “No need to freak - we'll be in and out before you know it! And then we can have victory pizza.” 

Donnie does not help your fear at all. “Wow! A complete ecological system bigger than any ocean on any world!”  
Mikey snickers.  
“Glad you find this funny,” you tell him. He lays his elbow on your shoulder, leaning on you. It makes you feel a little more grounded.  
“Look out for that crazy electric seaweed!” Raph says sharply.  
“No need to fret,” says Fugitoid. “I'll have us through in 2 minutes and 20 seconds!”

“A friend of ours used to have it,” Mikey says suddenly, and your chest pangs at the realization that he’s talking about you.  
You play a little dumb. “Fear of the ocean?”  
“Yeah,” Mikey laughs, but it’s softer than usual. “I guess it’s pretty common, huh? Our friend, uh, couldn’t even get into a bathtub without panicking. There was this look that she got when you brought it up, like you were about to hold a gun to her head.”  
You force out a chuckle. “Sounds like your friend was a bit of a scaredy-cat.”  
Mikey swells with an emotion you can’t label. “No way, man. She was the bravest person I ever met. We haven’t talked about it in a while, but I know the guys still miss her.”  
You ask the next natural question: “What happened to her?”

Mikey swallows hard. The bubble the two of you have created seems to be a pocket of bittersweet somberness against the tension of the rest of the room.  
“She, uh, got lost on the way here. We’re still not sure, actually. One minute she was standing on the bridge, and then... “ His voice breaks. He shakes his head, makes a funny little _boom_ gesture with his hands. “Gone. Like she was never here.”  
Your heart feels like it’s breaking. “Mikey-”

 _BZZT._ You almost buckle under it this time, and you pull out of your reverie with Mikey to hear commotion around you.  
“Stop, my Daagon friends! This is the sigil of the Utrom!” Fugitoid looks stressed, if a robot could show it.  
The ruckus outside slows. The savage-looking mermen outside the window start to escort your ship down to what looks like an undersea kingdom.

You look at Mikey again. He looks like he’s desperately trying to pull himself together before you get off the ship, wringing his hands and looking at the ceiling.  
You yank him into a hug, your hands naturally finding the back of his shell. It’s weird with your armor, but you’ve got this mostly down to muscle memory from New York, and Mikey seems to appreciate it. 

You pull away. Mikey shakes his head quickly, dispersing the last of the melancholy.  
“Better?”  
He nods, back to his old self. “Better. Thanks for letting me talk about that kinda thing, dude. I think I might’ve needed it.”  
You cuff his arm at the sheepishness that follows.  
“Anytime, man.”

“Who enters the realm seeking audience with Hidrala, Supreme Ruler of the Daagon?”  
God dammit what the shit.  
You’re so glad that you’re wearing a helmet, because you’re sure that staring is considered rude here. You almost break your kneel out of sheer intimidation.  
The queen looks like something out of an old alien movie - all big glassy eyeballs and more tentacles than one creature should know what to do with, unless they were gross. 

Leo seems mostly unaffected. “Uh - Greetings, Supreme Ruler! My name is Leonardo, and these are my companions.”  
God, he talks like a nerd.  
Mikey snickers. Whoops. You must’ve said that one out loud.

“What up?” Raph elbows him. “Ow!”  
Fugitoid breezes past it. What a champ. “We come bearing the sigil of the Utrom! We seek the fragment of the Black Hole Generator that you have in your possession.”  
“You may rise,” the queen says tersely.

You mutter, “How generous,” and earn an elbow of your own from Raph. Mikey has to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing.  
April shoots the three of you a look before snapping back the conversation with the queen with a gracious smile. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The queen still looks like she has an entire redwood tree up her ass. “The Utrom entrusted the fragment to me, giving Hidrala ultimate say over it. Are you truly worthy to claim a device of such devastating power? Who among you is leader?”  
Leo steps forward.  
“You? You are a mere child. How are you worthy?”  
You bite your tongue.  
“We may be young, but we've fought huge battles, saved whole planets, and on top of everything else, we saw the destruction of our world!”  
Weak defense, but better than none. You feel your irritation wane. 

Donnie steps forward. “We've been given a second chance to save Earth. We're gonna destroy the Black Hole Generator.”  
The queen covers her mouth-equivalent with a tentacle. “Ha! It cannot be destroyed! Why do you think it was hidden away?”  
You’re not gonna kiss her ass if she's going to be a bitch. 

“Why the fuck would we cross the galaxy if we weren’t sure we had a way to dispose of it?”  
Raph looks at you with wide eyes, making you realize that you had in fact said that to a queen.  
Fuck. You don’t flinch when she scrutinizes you.  
“Why, if it isn’t the Tri-Arena champion. Czach, was it?” You set your jaw. “I know what you are. You hide it well, but you ache for the battlefield. War is your resting state. I see a great potential for violence in you.”  
That’s funny, considering that the sight of blood makes you want to gouge your eyeballs out. 

You turn away, showing your back to the queen.  
She doesn’t take offense, thank God. Against expectation, she merely laughs. 

Raph is still staring at you.  
“Sorry,” you say. “Wasn’t thinking.”  
He cuffs the back of your helmet.  
Very quietly, he says, “Don’t be. That was badass.”

Leo reluctantly continues the conversation. “If you keep it, the Triceratons will find it. They'll tear your kingdom apart to get it.”  
The queen makes a considering noise. “If you desire the fragment, you must face C’thugga, an ancient beast that obeys only me. If you are indeed worthy, it will sense this and let you take it freely. If you are not, it will devour you whole.”

Cliche, but whatever. You know that anyone on the team has enough goodwill in their pinky to overwhelm any test of morality, so this’ll be a breeze.  
Quietly, Mikey says, “As long as we're swallowed whole and not chomped to pieces, I think we're cool, dudes.”  
You snicker.  
Casey puffs out his chest. “Huh. Been there, done that.”  
Raph knocks his fist against Casey’s. “We can take this C'thugga.”

Back on the ship, the team heads towards what you feel like is the epitome of thalassophobia rolled into one bigass bundle of horror.  
Nonetheless, they are undeterred.  
“Let’s do this!” Donnie cheers.  
Fugitoid looks more realistic about it, which you appreciate. “Understand me when I say C'thugga is one of the six cosmic monsters you do not want to mess with!”

You can hear Mikey muttering to himself about sea monsters and snort.  
Leo asks, “What do you guys suppose it means to be truly worthy?”  
April looks hopeful. “We all have good, noble hearts. That has to mean something.”  
Raph sneaks a glance at you that you don’t miss. It looks like he thinks otherwise.  
Fair. 

The ship shakes.  
Raph pulls his gaze away from you, looking out the front window. “What hit us?”  
Donnie grabs onto the seat closest to him. “It’s ramming us again! Brace yourselves!”  
You’re rocked hard enough to take a few steps. Mikey falls over.  
“Oh, no!” He cries, “It’s Armaggon!”  
Your chest does something weird and panicky as the turtles take their seats. 

Casey cheers, snapping you out of it. “Yes! He's like my favorite bad guy ever!”  
You look at him like he’s lost his mind. He shrugs.  
“The hull's been breached!”  
_Fuck._

Leo says, “Arming defensive systems now.”  
“He’s too fast, dudes!”

Fugitoid’s hands fly across the controls. You grab onto the railing near Mikey to stay standing. “Oh, my! We're beginning to take on liquid. Activating the forward drain!”

Something grabs you from behind and lifts. Your feet leave the ground.  
Armaggon.  
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Looks like the whole entrée! One more step, and I chomp this chump's head clean off! All right, kiddies, put your little weapons down on the ground now! I been spying on you Turtles a long time, and ol' Armaggon knows what you're up to.”  
You watch as Raph drops his sais to the ground and kicks them away. The rest follow suit.

Raph’s scowl deepens. “What are you talking about, Finhead?”  
Armaggon chuckles. You can smell the fetid rot in his teeth and squirm in his hold, trying to think your way out. “I know you got the first piece of the Black Hole Generator. And now you're gonna get me the second piece. Is that a great plan or what?”  
“Oh, bleep,” Fugitoid says, and you can’t help but agree.  
“‘S a piece of shit plan,” you mutter angrily, trying to pry his grip off, “made by a piece of shit fish.”  
He snarls. You feel the back of your neck tingle in warning. 

You hear Armaggon's comm line click open. “Well, Dregg, not only did I get me some Turtles; I got the first piece of your Black Hole toy! Plus your little attack dog, it seems. Looks like your pooch could use some retraining.”  
You won’t panic. You won’t. 

“Excellent work, Armaggon. You've most certainly redeemed yourself for all of your past screw-ups.” You kick out, trying to get away, but Armaggon shakes you by the neck, hard.  
“You know what? I'm quadruplin' my fee. Your dog’s not very well behaved.”  
You grit your teeth.  
Dregg starts, “You arrogant-”  
Mikey cuts in, “Aww, snap. It cracks me up when the bad guys bust on each other,” and your panic subsides a little.  
“Totally,” agrees Casey, and they share a grin.  
“Not the time,” April says. She looks at you nervously as Armaggon pushes you towards the control center. 

“All right, get this hunk of junk moving.”  
Raph mutters, “Stupid bossy shark,” but does what he says.  
The ship dips towards the ocean floor, and Donnie doesn’t stop himself from being a total fucking nerd. “Fascinating! An entire planetesimal system in the depths of an oceanic nebula.”  
Apparently Fugitoid is susceptible to it too: “The wonders of the universe never cease.”

Armaggon grouses, “Will you two nerds shut up already?”  
Fugitoid complies by saying, “We're here. The Cave of C’thugga.”

Leo eyes you warily before he speaks. “Armaggon, the only way we can get the piece is to prove we're worthy.”  
“Yeah,” says Donnie, “and with you on the ship and holding Kid hostage, I'd say we now fall into the definitely-not-worthy-to-face-C’thugga category.”  
Armaggon gives them the proverbial middle finger. “I'm the one calling the shots here. So move!”

A few moments pass in darkness before April speaks, her hands by her head.  
“I'm sensing a huge, powerful presence inside. Getting closer,” she says. Armaggon looks uneasy. “Closer.”

C’thugga rushes the ship, maw gaping.  
Fugitoid immediately turns the ship around. “Now would be the time to retreat! Whoa!”  
Something hits the side of the ship, making everyone struggle for balance.  
Mikey cracks a joke, despite the tension. What a guy. “Well, at least we know we're not worthy!”  
Raph turns on Armaggon as you’re all forced to the left. “You wanna survive this? You gotta let Kid go!”  
Armaggon’s grip tightens.  
You snark, “Thanks, Raph, I needed a tighter seatbelt!” and Mikey laughs. 

“Fugitoid, we need more speed!”  
“I'm giving it all she's got, Captain!” At Leo’s flat look, he amends, “Sorry, I couldn't resist.”  
Raph squats, both hands over his mouth in a way that is far too familiar for comfort. “Oh, I think I’m gonna be seasick.”  
_THUNK._ Fugitoid cries, “The ship is gonna be torn apart!”

The commotion peters off and dies. The ship slows.  
After a moment, April states the obvious. “It’s gone.”  
Armaggon laughs, the boisterous sound making you hunch your shoulders to your ears. “What a rush, eh, Turtles? Really got my heart goin'!” He jostles you like a friend would. You kick him where his crotch would be if he wasn’t an abomination to evolution.

Armaggon lets go of you, and you turn to find the Daagon guard have boarded.  
“Take him to the dungeon!”  
Mikey grins. “Busted!”  
“Looks like it’s off to aquarium jail,” Raph gloats.  
“Thanks, Captain,” Donnie says, like an upstanding citizen. “Hey, wait. How did you know we were in trouble?”  
Fugitoid holds up an informative finger. “As soon as Armaggon hijacked the "Ulixes," I secretly sent out an S. O. S. knowing that the honorable Daagon would come to our aid.”

Leo grits his teeth. Raph catches it. “Leo, you can’t blame yourself.”  
You turn away as Leo confirms your fear: “There's no way Hidrala will think we're worthy now! You can kiss that piece of the Black Hole Generator good-bye.”

Going back to the throne room is awkward, to say the least. Is this what a walk of shame feels like?  
“I will not allow criminal scum to desecrate my ocean paradise. You will pay for your crimes, Armaggon!” The queen rounds on your group. “And you... You have all failed. You could not even stop this vile thief, much less pass the test.”  
“That ain’t fair!” Casey argues.  
“Please, Supreme Ruler, give us another chance,” Leo pleads. 

Armaggon starts to laugh even though he's restrained. The queen turns a piercing eye on him.  
“Insolent fool! Explain to me what it is you find so funny!”  
“I’m laughin’ ‘cause reinforcements are here,” Armaggon says, and all the windows shatter in. 

Lord Dregg flies in with a flourish, grinning nastily at everyone he sees.  
“Hidrala! You have something I desire. And I intend to take it.Hand over the Black Hole Generator piece, or I'll start filleting you one by one!”  
Hidrala looks unimpressed. It gains her a brownie point. “Lord Dregg. I know who you are: a lowlife gangster and wretched fiend!”  
Dregg sputters indignantly. “I am ruler of Sectoid 1! My consumption knows no end! You will give me what I desire, or I and my children shall feast upon you all!”

Your ears are ringing. There’s something building at the base of your spine, like the beginning of a really awful cramp. It feels nerve related. You almost call for Donnie, but this absolutely is not the time.  
Case in point: “Daagon, to battle!”  
Chaos explodes across the throne room. You avoid a wayward Vreen and launch yourself at Armaggon, setting your gauntlets to concussive and slamming into him with as much force as possible. He’s sent flying, hitting the opposite wall as you pursue, fists out.  
Raph catches sight of you and steers clear, yanking Mikey out of the way by his shell.

You roundhouse kick him when he gets to his feet, turning it into a combo that makes him hit the ground so hard his armor cracks the tile.  
“Little guppy’s getting big,” Armaggon laughs. You kick his face in. “Don’t forget who owns you, _Czach._ ”  
You yank him up by the back of his armor, just enough to give you leverage to slam your fist into his face over and over and over and over-  
“Kid!” Raph. He drags you back bodily by your arms. You almost fight, but C’Thugga is coming through the windows all at once with its long arms and you kick into a sprint, following Raph.

Once out of range, you turn to see Armaggon struggle against C’Thugga’s grip. “Let us go, you freak!”  
Dregg finds you from where a tentacle holds him aloft and grins when he sees you. You step back on reflex.  
He doesn’t say anything, but when you see his hand and the remote he’s holding, you panic. 

You shove Raph away from you, earning a indignant, “Hey!” but you’re sprinting before he can argue.  
_No no no no no-_  
You know it’s useless.  
“Kid!”

The pain is no less excruciating. You can hear Dregg’s laughter as he’s dragged off; the base of your spine feels like there’s a hole burning through it and you scream hard enough to feel your throat scrape raw. You buckle, falling hard at the steps to the queen’s throne, and duck your head between your shoulders as your hands grasp at tile.  
You can hear people yelling, questioning. A hand comes down on your shoulder. You jerk away, rolling onto your back and groaning through your teeth as a new wave of pain comes with it.  
You look up to find Donnie. There’s something in his hand.  
You hear the word _tranquilizer._

The last thing you feel is hands on your arms, hauling you upright. 

You wake up alone in the infirmary. You’re dressed about the same - you’ve been stripped of your upper torso armor and your helmet is still on.  
You look down to see electrodes that disappear under your suit and a used IV lays on a tray next to your arm. Further away, a cart with a bloodied scalpel sits by a device the size of a Gatorade cap that has metal probes coming off of it like shiny yarn. Blood has dried on it, meaning it’s been out for a while.  
The screen closest to you reads off your vitals. Under them, it looks like Donnie started a note during the procedure explaining how it’d been connected to your spine from your lumbar vertebrae to your brain stem and the tricky maneuver needed to remove it, but your head is in a loop.  
_It’s out._  
No more helmet. 

You pull the electrodes off, hands trembling.  
You’re nervous, you realize. Donnie seemed to be okay with you, but how will the rest react knowing you consciously deceived them? Would they understand?  
They’re family, you tell yourself.  
You almost consider not taking it off.  
You stand carefully. Your legs almost refuse, forcing you to lean against the bed, but the moment you get strength to stand you feel a rush of unadulterated longing smashed in with relief and joy and a million other things that make you stagger down the hallway to the common area.  
Mikey lays on the floor in front of the TV, just like he did in the lair. The rest of the team is on the couch, and April and Casey are nowhere to be seen. You watch them, your heart swelling.

Leo turns first, sensing you. “Are you supposed to be up?”  
Donnie is on his feet in an instant, followed by Raph, who doesn’t move. Mikey spins around to face you, and the moment is complete.  
“Whoa, kid, you weren’t supposed to be u-”  
“ _Donnie,_ ” you say, your voice thick with emotion. His eyes grow round with surprise.

You stumble forward on unreliable legs, hands already on your helmet, and Donnie shouts in alarm as you shove it off and throw yourself at him.  
You hear the helmet clatter to the floor.  
You’re tearing up. Donnie’s hands are gentle on your shoulders as you shake, and it takes a moment for the others to catch up. 

You hear your name, in all voices, in all sorts of tones, and you’re barely away from Donnie before Mikey sweeps you into a hug.  
He’s crying, which of course makes you cry harder. He seems to have lost his words.  
“I’m sorry,” you tell them, “I’m so, so sorry-”  
You're yanked away from Mikey to face Leo and Raph, blinking wetness out of your eyes. 

Leo breaks into a watery grin. “It’s you,” he says, and pulls you in for a quick hug. “I… God, we all thought you were dead.”  
You laugh despite the fact getting to this moment took a truckload of trauma.  
Raph looks like he wants to slap you or hug you, which is fair. 

“Sorry,” you say first, nervous again. Donnie snorts. “If I had told you I would’ve been tazed until my brain fried and Donnie found out because he took my blood for testing but then I asked him not to tell because the first three times we fought and I tried to tell you it was me I got zapped and I wish I wouldn’t have had to do that and I’m so-”  
Raph’s face scrunched up while you were talking in that way he does when he’s trying not to cry. You come to a full stop when you notice it.  
You try, “I’m sor-”  
“Shut up,” he says weakly. “Shut the fuck up.”

He’s the warmest, you notice. Out of the brothers, his temperature runs warmest, and it’s a soothe you didn’t know you needed until now.  
“Don’t do that again,” he says quietly into the nape of your neck. “I’ll break your legs.”  
You laugh wetly. “I dunno what happened to even attempt it.”  
He squeezes harder. You hear Mikey complaining about how his time was cut short.  
“Don’t worry,” you tell him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped the Dimension X/Savage Mikey episode bc that would've been a lot of pining!Reader to write bc Mona and Raph just. Mack. Right the fuck there, cut the check, end episode. And I. Did not have. The wherewithal.  
> Also you're a human in this and I don't think a normal person would've survived liberal electrocution and blood loss while fighting and sustaining MORE damage, so you got a full REM cycle. As a treat  
> I'm jealous.
> 
> also???? it's like when I came out w the spine implant I thought "yk what I need? more practice on how to say mc just got absolutely fucking fried"  
> ANYWAY NO MORE HELMET you're officially you! hope you liked it :)


	6. Episode 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie, genius that he is, pulls his head out of his ass. “Maybe with our upgraded thrusters!”  
> The engine shudders under you.  
> “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” Mikey crows. “Floor it, Fuge!”  
> You think, this is fucking _awesome_ , and the ship lurches into high gear. You almost fall. No one sees, thank God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I totally beefed the release date on this one didn't I  
> rolling blackouts of power and wifi have officially kicked my ass fourteen ways to Sunday! (AKA I haven't had wifi in two weeks bc I live in the insane little pocket of America that had fckn ice storms what tf is wrong w the world)
> 
> I offer 5K+ words in penitence  
> (what is that word wow)
> 
> CONTENT WARNING idk if I should label it as depression bc some of it is me venting onto the reader and I don't have depression but this chapter is definitely a bummer towards the end BUT it get better and that's a Leo guarantee
> 
> anyway, as always - still not beta read and I hope you enjoy :)

You wake up in the infirmary. Yesterday had wound down about how you expected - April screamed loud enough to make your ears bleed and, after a long talk about how you’ve been (while also avoiding any talk of what’s bothering you), everyone drifted to their respective quarters, leaving you with Donnie while he gave you one last IV for good measure. You’d fallen asleep to the resonant hum of the ship.

Raph is there the moment you open your eyes, which scares you so badly that you almost fall out of bed when you see him.  
“Hey,” he says, like you literally didn’t almost just shit yourself. He looks tired. “How you feeling?”  
You clear your throat, settling down again. “Uh, good.” You wince. “Better.”  
Raph’s look tells you to try again.  
“I feel closer to normal than I have in a while,” you amend, and he relaxes a little. “You guys help.”

He looks down at your hands and swats them away from each other. You hadn’t realized you still picked at your cuticles.  
“We didn’t even know it was you,” he says, murmur-quiet. He looks stricken. “Donnie told us the gist of it, but I thought… I thought I’d know it was you. Then you yanked your helmet off and jumped at Donnie, and I-”  
He takes a deep, shuddering breath. You reach over to pat his arm and he makes a strangled noise. 

“-I didn’t even know it was you until you started crying.”  
You don’t want to cry again, so you break the mood without meaning to. “I wouldn’t say I was _crying,_ per se-”  
“Can it, you cried.”  
You snort. “If I cried, then so did you!”  
“I’m a man,” says Raph, and the wetness in his voice is clearing. “I don’t cry.”  
“That’s toxic masculinity if I’ve ever heard it. You think ninjas believe in that bullshit?”

Raph scoffs, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t have a good response. You smile, smoothing a hand over the warm skin of his arm.  
You notice that you can’t hear commotion behind him. Normally, Donnie would be the first one in to check on you for vitals…  
“What time is it?”  
He doesn’t wince, but from the hesitation you can tell he’s downplaying his answer when he says, “Early.”  
You try to find a clock equivalent for approximately four seconds before he huffs, “Like, four.”  
“ _In the morning?_ Raph,” you laugh, genuinely surprised. “What the fuck! Why are you awake?”  
“Couldn’t sleep knowin’ you were in here,” he says after a moment. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna fuckin’ explode on an atomic level or whatever bullshit Don spouted last time.”  
He has a nickname for Donnie’s nickname. You try not to punch yourself in the face at the overwhelming fondness that invokes.  
“I’m not gonna disappear,” you say. He doesn’t look convinced. “Not on purpose, at least.”  
He scowls. “See? You don’t even know. I dunno if I-”  
You sit forward when he lays his head in his hands.  
“Raph,” you say. He doesn’t look. “ _Raphael._ Look at me.”  
He does.  
It’s hard to pull something sincere when you haven’t had time to rehearse, but you attempt it anyway.

“You could die someday,” you start, and immediately facepalm. “No. No, wait-”  
He’s laughing. You swat his arm.  
“ _Shut up!_ My point is that-”  
“God, what the-”  
“-WE BOTH HAVE FINITE LIFESPANS AND OUR TIME TOGETHER ISN’T GUARANTEED. Raph!”  
You break off into a cackle. Raph slumps against the bed, pressing his forehead into your leg. His shoulders are shaking. He pulls back with a smile on his face, and everything chaotic in you settles. 

“Did Don not get you your own room?” He asks a while later.  
You snort. “I’ve been here for like, a week. I’ve been injured every day. Stitches are a bitch to upkeep and the Tri-Arena didn’t help.”  
Raph winces. You reach down to carefully take the IV out. He makes a protesting sound as you lay the needle on the tray next to you and start pulling electrodes.  
“You think Donnie’ll be okay with you doing that?”

You level him with a look. “I dunno about you, but I wanna go somewhere else and having a tether in my arm won’t get me far.”  
Raph deflates a little. “Oh.”  
You roll your eyes. “You’re going with me.”  
He perks. “ _Oh._ ”

You wake up with a splitting headache.  
Upside: there's a hand on your head and your cheek is pressed into the side of someone’s leg. Looking up, you see that it’s Raph, and that he’s awake. There’s a blanket covering you. You’re laying on the couch in the common area, so you guess you fell asleep there.  
“I can’t believe you remember that, Mikey,” Raph is saying.  
“Whoa! What do you - pizzapizzapizza - mean? I have an awesome memory, bro.”

Mikey’s memory is actually borderline photographic, when it’s in his wheelhouse. You wonder what they’re talking about.  
You tug the blanket further over your shoulder and move to where Raph’s leg blocks out the light in the room. Raph’s hand moves to your shoulder. You feel his thumb smooth over the curve of it reflexively and your heart does a weird finicky thing in your chest. 

You think, _Much better,_ and Donnie takes your movement as you being wide fucking awake.  
“Good morning, Slim,” he says. You kindly flip him off, earning scattered laughter. “If you have a headache, it’s probably from anaesthesia. I can give you some painkillers if you want-”  
“No,” you beg, “No more meds. I’d rather suffer.”  
Donnie tries, “Not even-”  
“No.” 

Raph snorts. “She doesn’t want any meds, Don. Just wait until she asks.”  
You flip off Raph. Mikey crows.  
“Not gonna ask,” you mutter. “‘M gonna sleep it off.”  
“What a champ,” Raph says amicably.  
You can damn near feel his affectionate expression even with your eyes closed. You ignore the heat in your cheeks and press your face harder into the side of his leg. 

“Your ears are red,” he flirts, “you a little warm?”  
You say, “Somethin’ like that,” and tug the blanket over your head. Raph smooths his hand across your back with a laugh that you haven’t heard in a long time and you feel your face go nuclear. 

“Tone it down, Casanova, you’ve got a side piece,” says Mikey suddenly, and you feel Raph’s thigh tense under you.  
Mikey chooses that moment to lay in the curve of your legs, resting his head on your hip and draping an arm over your leg as the TV starts to play an episode of Chris Bradford and His 2 Ruff Crew. 

Raph doesn’t say anything for a long time, and you figure that’s okay.  
You tug the blanket down to look him in the eye. “It’s okay if you need to figure it out,” you tell him. You look over at the TV. “It’s okay if it isn’t me.”

Because what else, you wonder, could you possibly say to him? How could you say that you want him to pick you and not sound selfish?  
How do you tell him that you’re only here because the ever-present itch to see him again made you press forward after every heartache? All this blood on your hands only washed off because he was behind your eyes, guiding your movements as you picked hemoglobin from under your nails. His voice was in your ear, in your head, in your actions. You only made it here with your sanity because he’s so fucking sturdy for you. 

How do you tell him that if he chooses Y’Gthgba, you’ll tear at every seam? That no detail of you will be left unscathed?  
You can’t. It’s selfish. 

Raph looks like he wants to puke.  
“Let’s change the subject,” you offer casually. Mikey looks like he’s already forgotten, but you’re sure he shot Raph some sort of look to elicit that level of discomfort from him. 

“Holy shit,” you say suddenly, laughing, “Is that Rahzar pre-mutagen?”  
Mikey grins against your hip. “Yes, dude. Isn’t it beautiful?”  
“He looks like a total tool. What kinda Mike Tyson ripoff is this?”  
“It’s not a ripoff, it’s good!”

You scoff. Raph’s leg is slowly getting looser under you, so you keep ignoring the elephant in the room despite its overwhelming size. 

“It’s so shitty that you _think_ it’s good. You have literally no taste.”  
Mikey swats your calf, earning himself a joking kick to the plastron. He makes a funny choking noise and you lean heavily into Raph’s side as Mikey struggles to defend his show. 

The morning continues. 

You’re a few breaths away from falling asleep again with Mikey against your legs and Raph under your head when the alarm starts.  
Mikey jolts off of the couch as you sit up with Raph. The three of you share a look. 

“Bridge,” says Raph. You and Mikey nod and follow him. 

“Guys,” says April upon your entrance, “the Triceratons tracked us down!”  
You watch the news wash over the team just before the communication display lights up with ugly. 

“Attention Starship Ulixes,” says the Triceraton, “this is Captain Mozar of the Triceraton Empire.”  
Raph tenses next to you. 

“Captain,” he says with a grin that tells you he’s about to be an ass, “Didn’t this dick used to be an Admiral?”

“Heh, I bet the jerk got demoted because of us,” says Casey, breaking into a cackle. 

Mozar snaps, “Idiots! I can hear everything you say-”  
“Oh, awesome,” you mutter. “You’re fucking ugly and that pukey color isn’t flattering on you.”  
Mikey loses it.  
“You are surrounded. Hand over the-” Mozar stalls, his face falling into rage. “Silence that child! Hand over the pieces of the Black Hole Device to me, or we will blow you out of the cosmos!”

“You’ll do that anyway,” says Leo, in full game mode.  
“Yeah, at least buy us dinner first,” you say. Mikey wheezes. 

“You have my _word,_ ” says Mozar, gritting his teeth, “as a Triceraton that I will allow you a three nexton head start. Then we will chase you down and blow you away.”  
“Real generous, Horn Head,” mutters Raph. You snort. 

“You’ll have to come over and get it yourself, Mozar,” says April. She looks ready to throw down.  
“Very well, then. Prepare to be boarded,” he says, and the display turns off. 

You all stand in silence for a long moment. Raph clears his throat.  
“Can we all just agree that that guy’s a total dick?”  
“Seconded,” you say, and the others mutter “yes” equivalents. 

Mikey sidles up to you as the others talk game plans. You wonder how long the Triceratons will give you before firing, but Mikey doesn’t seem terribly concerned.  
“So you know about Mona?”

He looks like he’s trying not to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You watch as he rocks back on his heels.  
He’s failing, you think. He totally looks like he has his hand in the cookie jar. 

You say, “I know about Mona, yeah.”  
He squints. Both hands in there, you see. _All_ up in there.  
“And you’re cool with that?”  
You decide to play dumb. “With Raph having friends?”  
Mikey pouts. “You know what I’m talkin’ about, dog! He’s obviously got a thing for her!”

You flatten your facial expression into neutral and keep your voice low. “He’s free to do what he wants, _dog._ I understand that people move on.”  
“But he hasn’t!” Mikey throws his arms out, catching Raph’s eye from across the way. “He’s trying to do both and it’s not cool!”

You feel yourself blanch as Raph turns his full attention on Mikey, seeming to realize the topic of conversation.  
“You don’t deserve-”  
Raph breaks away from the group, approaching. You wave your hands at Mikey.  
“Mikey, can we-”  
“-that kinda bad vibe, man, and-”  
“Dude-”

Raph is almost on you, eyebrow raised. You slap both hands over Mikey’s mouth and smile at Raph when he stands to your left.  
“Hey,” you say, a bit breathless. “What’s the plan?”  
Mikey says, “Mmf mgmgh.”  
Raph looks at Mikey. Looks at you.  
“Mikey being stupid or something?”

Mikey licks your hand. You wipe your slick palm on the side of his face and look at Raph.  
“Something like that,” you say. “Uh, what’s the game plan?”

Raph doesn’t stop looking at you for a long moment. You briefly think that you might not have schooled your expression as expertly as you thought you did.  
The moment passes. He snorts.  
“We don’t have one,” he says. “We dunno what those boneheads are plotting, so we’re dead in the water.”

The ship starts to blare at the butt of Raph’s sentence, causing you to startle harder than you thought you would. Mikey pats your back.  
“No big, mama, it’s just a little greeting from the ship.”  
You look at the display. _Target locking technology recognized,_ it reads.  
You shoot Mikey a flat look. 

“We’re about to be blown up,” you say. You aren’t amused.  
“We don’t have the firepower to take those guys,” Leo declares, and Mikey stares at you like a deer caught in the headlights as everyone around you starts bustling to get the ship into motion.  
“Move! Go, go, go!”

The ship bursts into motion. You flip off Mikey. He knows why.

The Triceraton squadron is on your asses as Mikey jumps into his seat. You grab onto the handrail and keep an eye out front. This, you think, is incredibly stressful.  
Raph immediately exacerbates that thought: “We can’t outrun their entire fleet!”

Donnie, genius that he is, pulls his head out of his ass. “Maybe with our upgraded thrusters!”  
The engine shudders under you.  
“Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” Mikey crows. “Floor it, Fuge!”  
You think, this is fucking _awesome_ , and the ship lurches into high gear. You almost fall. No one sees, thank God. 

Fugitoid breaks the sudden silence: “No matter what, we must keep heading towards the Plural X Beta System. We can't afford to let the Triceratons beat us there!”  
Leo nods. “Let’s keep focused. We can do this!”  
“Almost ready for Tachyon Jump. They won't be able to track us again because we're awesome!”  
You snort at Fugitoid’s weird, stilted way of speaking just before something rocks the side of the ship. 

Donnie cries, “Everyone brace yourselves!” and you stumble when you’re hit again. 

You have to do something.  
You look out from the display, your sights set on the leading Triceraton ship.

You hear, “ _WAIT-_ ” just before you disappear. 

You reassemble right smack-dab in the middle of the bridge, which is great. You immediately take a hit to the back of the head that disorients you so badly that you blitz to the entrance of their security block and back.  
The admiral (what the fuck are military ranks?) stares you down, hand raised. 

Very slowly, he breaks into a smile. It’s about as gross as it was last time you saw it. God, these guys just… are not attractive.  
You blitz to the ceiling to the hall to the bridge, gathering force as you travel to hit him hard enough to topple him. He goes down hard enough to shake the deck, and you skid to a stop as the soldiers around you stall in shock, waiting for instruction. 

“You,” you gasp, and it occurs to you that you might not be fully recovered, “stop this attack. Let the turtles go.”  
The admiral wheezes out a laugh.  
“Your leash looks slack, _Czach,_ ” he spits, and it’s a real effort not to recoil. “What would Dregg think of this little act-out?”

You kick his left eye in so hard that it makes audible sound and grab him by the horn, dragging him close.  
“ _You stop this attack,_ ” you repeat, with force. Your voice trembles at the thought of killing these men. “Let the turtles go.”  
His eye twitches, unable to open as he considers you. You see blood drip thick from the space between his eye and its socket and slam his head on the floor, hard. 

“Ready to launch a Rock Rocket! I want it armed with a biological payload the Skeevix Virus!”  
Frustration snaps, quick and hot, and you kick him again, and again and again and again because if you have to kill these stupid dinosaurs, these _people-_

“Raise atom-dispersal block fields!” The admiral’s eye looks like shit, he looks like he’s in pain, but he’s grinning. “Ready a cell for prisoner J-X27.”  
You blink. That doesn’t sound optimal. 

Five seconds later, running for your life in a ship you can’t escape, you realize that it’s definitely less than optimal. What’s the word for opposite from optimal? You don’t know. You’re up shit creek and around the fucking corner. Your breaths are wheezing out of you - you’re too exhausted to continue, but somehow you’re barely managing it. 

A soldier staggers you with a net, leaving you inconvenienced and huffing for air as you kick it off, but you aren’t quick enough - hands grab your legs, your arms, and you're carried limply to a cell.

Blitzing doesn’t work here. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve tried. You’ve lost count of the minutes. You feel like shit.

You sulk.  
Someone, you know, will lecture you until you’re dead when you get back. Like, 100% dead. Call the coroner, jump-start the Hearse, this idiot looks so fucking dead it’s ridiculous. Deader than dead.  
It’ll be a cremation, you muse, because open-casket funerals are fucking weird. You’ve always liked carnations. 

You sleep. You need it. You can’t help it.  
When you wake, you hear bustling, feet moving heavy on metal floors.

You bolt upright when the door to your cell opens. No one greets you. It isn’t Raph. The team doesn’t seem to be close by. There’s no familiar laughter or clink of nunchaku chain.  
You look up at the ceiling, finding that the red light of emergency power is on. 

Ah. Something must’ve happened. The turtles probably shorted out the core engine. Donnie’s smart like that.  
With a lot less energy and efficiency than you normally would’ve given, you get to the bridge, find the warp pad in the chaos, and warp to Fugitoid’s ship. 

You end up in the commissary, which feels weird, but the lights are off and you can’t hear anyone, so you head for the bridge. 

The team is there, talking tersely. You make out the hunch of Raph’s shoulders, the lean of Donnie’s posture against his staff as he listens to Leo. You see Mikey’s fidgeting and Leo’s expressive hands. April is at Donnie’s side, giving input, and Casey is slumped over one of the pilot seats, his gaze down.  
Fugitoid notices you first. 

“You’re back!” He says delightedly, and you figure he’s either ignoring the obvious blight on your part or he just doesn’t know about it. “Glad to see you safe, Czach.”  
Your mood pitches down dramatically, if possible. You think of the admiral’s kicked-in eye. 

Your shoulders won’t straighten up. You’re so tired. You’re sure you look small and slight in the darkness of the room, expressionless and remorseless, but you regret going to the Triceraton ship today and you regret ignoring Donnie’s warnings to slow down and dammit you regret taking off your helmet. 

You regret taking off your helmet.  
It feels like all of your bravado leaked out like O2 when you did, taking your energy and will to fight with it when Raph smoothed his fingers over your shoulder and April held your hands and fought tears, telling you how much she missed you, how much they all did, that they’re so glad you’re here, that they can’t lose now. 

And God, you sure as hell know it isn’t all on your shoulders, but it feels like they’re expecting the best performance possible from you - you’ve got brand-new super-cool space-mercenary training, after all. You kill now, after all. Your eyes are steelier now than they were before, after all. 

You’re all hard edges. You’re losing your grip on your will to fight, shaking hands slick with nervous sweat and the blood of that first crew of sixteen you killed that day, still tacky-wet and bright cerulean blue.

That wasn’t that long ago. You remember trying to get the blood out of your suit that night. The undersuit was black and spandex-adjacent, so no matter how much you fought with it you could never tell how much was left.  
The water ran clear but you didn’t feel like it should’ve been. There’s no way it came out that fast, you thought, and scrubbed until one of the seams ripped and G’Throkka found you pressed into the tile on the floor, head down and hands in the sink with the suit.  
The water drained blue. G’Throkka sewed up the seam. Not a soul was told about it. 

You remember that night in impressions - G’Throkka, proud Salamandrian general in full battle gear, fresh off a job, using his war-calloused hands for measly needle work.  
The cold sting of the tile where you sat shivering in your undergarments until he finished, helmet off while you fought to breathe.  
G’Throkka’s hand, weirdly lukewarm when you took it back.  
You hadn’t said a word. You were on the verge of breaking, so you just slept until you couldn’t anymore.  
Then you kept fighting. 

You’re on that cusp now, steeped in shame and regret and so much exhaustion that you’re heavy with it.  
You say, “‘M sorry,” because you are.  
You are. 

Nobody reacts for a long moment. From what you can see, Raph and Donnie swell with something to say at the same time, but Donnie gets to it first.  
“I told you to wait,” he says forcefully, angrily, and you close your eyes, reminded of some stupid thought about carnations from earlier. 

“I’ve _been_ telling you to wait, to-to slow down because you aren’t ready, but you aren’t listening. Why? What do I have to say to get you to stay put? You’re never this reckless. I don’t know what’s changed here but you need to get it under control.”

You’d expected this from Leo. Somehow, coming from Donnie, it feels worse.  
You try, “I d-”  
“We can’t babysit you, Slim. You know how to strategize - I’ve seen you plan fifteen steps ahead every day since I’ve met you, but this-”  
You can see the dim frame of his silhouette gesture with his hands, hopelessly frustrated, unable to articulate, and instantly feel a thousand times shittier. If Donnie can do anything it’s articulate.  
Your throat tightens. Your face feels like a furnace.  
“-it’s something I’ve never seen from you. You’re being tactless for no reason, thinking you can handle everything on your own like you have a confirmed safety net that’ll always catch you, a harness that’ll always pull you back up, but this isn’t acrobatics! There aren’t any do-overs, this isn’t the practice session, it’s all real! You-”

“Donnie,” says Leo. He sounds mature and disappointed. That’s just gonna be a thing today, you theorize, and do your best to cope with it. “Stop. That’s more than enough. We’re all keyed up, and you yelling isn’t helping.”

The light comes on. You keep your eyes on the floor.  
You don’t look. You can’t look, you’ll break.  
“I’m sorry for today,” you tell them. No one gives an audible response and you’re terrified to look. “I’m a liability. I’ll understa-”  
You totally just choked on a sob, awesome. You feel more pathetic by the second.  
You force your voice flat.  
“I understand if you wanna pull me off of missions.”

Mikey finally makes a weird strangled noise. You turn to the door, debating a blitz to get the fuck out as soon as possible, but think better of it. You don’t want to be dramatic. You’ll just walk. 

Raph, seeming to pull out of the stifling miasma of the room, says, “Hey-” but you aren’t followed, so you assume someone stopped him.  
That hurts a little. 

You suppose you might deserve it - you’ve put yourself at risk way too many times. It doesn’t feel like helping the team so much as it feels like pushing you.  
To what precipice, you don’t know. You know that you probably need to stop, take a breath, and figure this feeling out, but you’re scared. It’s so all-encompassing that you can barely ignore it anymore. 

You find yourself in the infirmary - again, no assigned room - and lay down on the table. Donnie’s removed the cushions you’d been sleeping on, so when you get settled, the metal is cold and unyielding on your cheek as you face the wall. 

It settles you a little, makes you feel a little lonely. Your brain’s buzz is receding the more you focus on the cold, on your breaths, on the goosebumps prickling along your arms.

You feel better. Not forgivable, but better.

Someone knocks at the door. You barely get a chance to turn over before Leo’s voice greets you.  
“Hey,” he says quietly, and you blink. He is literally the last person you’d expect to be here. Seriously. The list would go something like Raph, Mikey, April, Donnie, Casey, former President of the United States of America Barack Obama, and _then_ Leo. 

The lights are off. Leo doesn’t turn them on.  
“Sensei told us a story once,” he starts, and you snort wetly. He crosses the room and sits next to your thighs, perched on the edge of the table and balancing on his heels like an idiot.  
“It was about bloodlust and other cool stuff. A warrior, a ronin, left his family and fought in the wars to keep them safe at home, but when he returned he was different. He was a little off.”  
You don’t know where this is going.  
You murmur, “PTSD will do that to you.”

Leo smiles, you see. The light from the hall catches his face from the side, throwing his teeth in bright white and stark black against each other. You almost wish the lights were on.  
“It does, yeah. Long story short, he refused help and got so paranoid that he killed his wife and kid. Then he realized what he did and committed super painful seppuku so hard that he died, the end.”

You laugh, bright and surprised. “That’s awful!”  
“Yeah, old stories are pretty morbid,” Leo agrees, “I don’t really remember it. Sensei was full of shit anyway.”

You’re so shocked that you sit up. “ _What?_ How could you say that about your own dad?”  
“What, you mean how could I act totally different from how I usually do because of a totally understandable underlying reason-slash-cause that nobody knows about?”  
“Did you just enunciate the _slash_ symbol?” His point hits you like a brick. You squint your eyes closed with a sigh and slump back down. “Oh.”

Leo pats your shoulder. “Yeah. _Oh._ Come on, you shouldn’t be alone right now.”  
He grabs your arm and pulls you upright.  
You resist, but it’s kind of pathetic. “I-I don’t want a pity party. I know I’m fucked up. From the…”  
You wave your hand too casually to sum up murder, but Leo gets it. 

He shakes his head. “Nah, I ordered them to watch that stupid Chris Bradford show. Team bonding.”  
“Hey,” you say, tired and half-joking, “that monkey is the real deal.”  
“That monkey,” he mutters, “is gonna be the death of that TV.”  
He shakes his head, dispersing the thought. “I wanna show you something.”

You blink. You’re standing next to Leo in what looks like an insane asylum padded room without the padding. “What is this?”  
Leo is fiddling with a headband of some sort that he finally seems satisfied with before answering. “This’s the holo-room. It runs a simulation-type thing from your brain that I’m sure Donnie would love to nerd out on. I dunno how it works, but I know what it does. Here.”

He helps you put the headband on.  
You both stand in silence for a moment.  
Finally, you ask, “...What now?”  
“Where do you want to be most?”

That’s so easy, you think, and then come up blank.  
The room flickers. 

Your expression falls slack with surprise.  
“Oh,” you say, “oh no.”  
Leo looks around, polite and curious, and you fight the urge to shout at him to get out. 

“Fighting for the wrong reason isn’t easy,” G’Throkka is saying, his hands in the sink with your wet suit. You can see yourself slumped in the corner by the vent on the floor, trying to get warm from the heat seeping up. 

“I killed people today,” you hear yourself murmur, broken and terrified and confused, “and I don’t know why. Iggy said to, Dregg said to. Why? Why do we do this?”  
G’Throkka doesn’t look at you. You see him look into the mirror at himself like he’s trying to gauge what a good reason to kill an innocent cargo crew would be.  
“I don’t know. Dregg is a sadist of the worst breed. He is shameful and slimy and ruthless and selfish.”

You scoff. “You got that right.”  
“You don’t have to be,” he says, and he’s looking at _you_ now, his weird newt eyes catching yours in the mirror. “You can survive this and still come out of it as you.”

Memory-you looks up at him. “You really think so?” Your voice is so flat you’re surprised it wasn’t a statement.  
“He can’t take your sense of self away from you. Your..” You watch him try to put it into Earth slang. “ _You-ness._ That’s yours. You can choose to keep it or discard it, but he can’t take it. That’s the one thing you have left.”

Memory-you’s expression is almost reverent now, a little grateful, a little choked up.  
M-Y says, “Thanks, G’Throkka.”

The memory shuts down. Leo stares at you.  
The room flickers into color again, placing you on top of the laundromat near your old gym.  
It’s raining. The sounds of the city are wet and muffled. People hurry along the sidewalk below, umbrellas flared against the weather. 

You move to the edge of the building and sit. You estimate the temperature to be at about seventy degrees with high humidity.  
Perfect.

Leo sits too, after a long moment. Your hair gets wet, which is a little surprising.  
“It caught me off guard,” you say. When he gives you a blank look, you elaborate: “The question. Where did I want to be most.”

Leo nods. You both stare at 16th Street for a long while.  
“Please say something,” you say after too much silence, “I’m trying to play it cool and smooth but I’m nervous and embarrassed that _that_ was the place I went first out of everywhere-”  
“I get it, I think,” he interrupts, and his expression is pensive, like he’s just trying to understand it. You let him puzzle at it.

“G’Throkka’s a good guy,” Leo says finally, and you both watch a dog slip out of its leash and bolt across the street. If this weren’t a simulation, you muse that you might go after it. “That was a vulnerable moment. He was supportive and validated your feelings and he was really to-the-point. I admire that about him. He’s a good leader.”  
You can’t help it. You prompt, “But?”

Leo blinks, baffled. “But?”  
You shrug. “There’s a but.”  
“There’s no but.”  
You pull a face. “Feels like there was gonna be a but.”  
“There’s no but,” Leo says again. “I agree with G’Throkka. You’re strong and brave and smart, but we all falter. We all hit roadblocks and take steps back. That’s all it is. It’s normal and nothing to be ashamed of. As long as you’re you, that’s all that matters.”

He tugs you into a half-hug, his bulky arm draped over your shoulders.  
“So don’t call yourself a liability. Don’t say you’ll understand if we pull you off of missions. I want to see you fight,” he rallies. You lean on him, just a little. Just a little. “I want you to bitch and moan and gnash your teeth and I want you to lean on us, just like this.”  
He jostles you with his grip.  
“We’re here. Donnie crossed a few lines today with what he said and he feels like shit for it, but he still loves you. We all do. We want to help. Just don’t go off without a plan.”  
You’re crying. God since when the fuck was that a thing.  
You manage a watery, “You sound weird when you cuss,” and press your forehead to his shoulder. 

Leo lets you peter out on his arm for a while.  
The rain doesn’t let up. Everything is just the way you like it - warm and muted and comfortable. 

“Donnie’s definitely going to apologize to you, though,” Leo says suddenly, and you startle from where you were dozing on him. “He wouldn’t stop talking about it. He feels really bad.”

You lean away from him, confusion clearing. You laugh, surprised at the mood-breaker.  
Leo stares at you, eyes wide.  
You titter, “I look forward to it,” and get to your feet. You offer him a hand, which he takes. His weight is almost enough to yank you back down, but you manage. 

Leo asks, “You feeling better?”  
You nod.  
“Yeah,” you say, “You helped. I know what to do now, I think. Thanks, Leo.”  
“No problem,” he says, smiling, “It’s about time.”

He holds his hand out for the headband. You take a deep breath and pull the both of you out of the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome welcome come in you must be cold from all that mopey fckn rain  
> Leo rlly said ur feelings r valid tho didn't he what a guy
> 
> hello! ik a lot of the fandom no matter what version of the turtles they write ends up kind of portraying Leo as a stick-up-the-ass rule-follower but to me he's a good leader. he wants the best for his team and you're a part of that. he's smart enough not to push but he also knows where to do so to get you back on track and I like that abt him in the 2012 show and I wanted to show that here GOD I hope I did him justice ANYWAY it can only get better from here   
> and I hope as always that you'll let me know in the comments what you liked and disliked anyway bye :)


	7. Special Episode 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mona breaks your nose without preamble. The sound it makes under her boot will haunt Raph until he dies.  
> Leo cries out in alarm, Raph staggers on his feet, and you shout, “FUCK!” and reach for your bleeding face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hi yes it is i anon back at it again
> 
> this one isn't an episode from the series but i wanted to do at least one bottle episode bc snurt mentioned the memory trope thingy last chapter and i was like "wtf YES?????" bc that shit was fuckin inspiring  
> maybe i'll make more "specials" if i get inspired again, but i figured you deserved a little POV from Raph's perspective and maybe some more memories for context on your trauma w Dregg  
> and your relationship w Iggy, ig. i swear i don't hate her i just couldn't get her to work w the scene any other way ANYWAY no spoilers continue on
> 
> ALSO just uh  
> a thought ig  
> every time i've written your bad experiences w Dregg or just in general, I'm listening to Gimme A Minute by PVRIS. on. REPEAT. the new album is SO DAMN GOOD-

You keep going back to the simulator. 

Leo’s offered you full access to it all hours of the day, which you can’t help but think was a little dumb. You’re standing in the lair at 3am, heading to the dojo. 

Splinter doesn’t open his eyes. He’s meditating in his usual spot.  
You remember this scene very clearly - you’d just come back from a fight with your mother, a recovering addict. You were so steamed you could barely see straight, and when you checked the guys’ rooms, they were all out. Patrolling, probably. 

You would’ve joined them had your mother not called you to her dingy little crack apartment to ask for money and then blame her underlying issues on you when you said no. You’d only gone under the guise that you were helping her cook dinner. The grocery bags are probably still laying on her doorstep, going bad in the spring heat. Ugh.

When you’d gone to your older brother about it, he’d merely told you (rather demurely, might you add) that she was brave enough to ask you and that you shouldn’t dismiss her so quickly.  
And God, what the fuck was that. What a guy. Your brother’s mommy issues are so deeply ingrained that he has to kiss her ass while she fucking robs him. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. They’re both stupid. 

“I’m sure they aren’t stupid,” says Splinter, and you sigh upon realizing that you’d spoken aloud. “Come. Sit.”  
You sit.  
“Meditate with me.”  
God, you can’t. You suck so bad at meditating. 

Nonetheless, you cast aside your reluctance and pull your legs in before assuming your position in front of him.  
You take a deep breath in. Hold.  
Splinter asks, “Is your mother being difficult again?”  
Your air sputters a bit on the exhale, surprised that he’d spoken. 

You swallow. “You could say that,” you say, and start again, thinking the topic is closed.  
“Mmm,” says Splinter. You hold.  
“Your brother is not a reliable source of support in your decisions here,” he adds, like he’s hypothesizing. You almost choke, too easily distracted to keep up both meditation and this line of questioning.  
“You’ve gotta stop that,” you mutter, and Splinter chuckles. Your chest warms. 

_This,_ you think. _This is what a good parent is like._  
Kind and patient and wise. Helpful and flexible and willing to listen, but firm and disciplined at the same time. 

You relax a little, smiling in return. It fades when you think of your brother again.  
“He’s just so… _difficult,_ ” you say frustratedly, eyes closed. You aren’t focused on your breathing. “He can’t get his head out of the past. It’s always, ‘She was such a good mom back then,’ and, ‘She took care of us, we owe it to her!’” 

You slouch a little. “We don’t owe her shit. Especially not after the way she’s treated us. She owes _him_ a family session of therapy, if you ask me. Their dynamic is weird and I don’t want anything to do with it. Or her. He keeps dragging me back in and I’m sick of it. Like, I know he just wants what's best for the three of us, I guess, or he’s stuck on something, but I have boundaries. Boundaries that deserve to be respected, I think. He just doesn’t know when to quit.”  
You sigh, opening your eyes to find Splinter smiling at you patiently. 

“Sorry,” you say. “Got carried away.”  
“Don’t be,” says Splinter. “I never hear you talk of feelings. It’s nice to know that you have them.”  
Your chest is going nuclear, you think. You smile.  
“Thanks, Sensei.”

Mikey bursts into the simulator, and the whole lair shudders. You turn to the door, curious about the intrusion until you realize who it is and smile.  
“Hey, Mikey,” you greet, and he grins.  
“Hey, Sweet Thang! Wanna mess around in my Disney World simulation?”  
You pull a face. Mikey falters.  
“What the fuck _yes?_ Of course I do.”

The two of you ride Space Mountain enough times that even Mikey gets worn out, and it’s after a lot of running around the Star Wars area with Kylo Ren that he decides to call it a night.  
“G’night man,” he says with a yawn. “Be sure not to pass out in here, okay?”

You nod, watching him slump to the door. The room is already changing to a quaint little book shop over on Xeta Moon Seven you’d seen a few months ago.  
“Goodnight, Mikey,” you say, and the door closes.

The shop had been an experience you still cherish to this day - a pocket of quiet ambience that had cut through the fuzz in your head like a meat cleaver.  
It’s huge and spread out, shelves upon shelves spread over three floors with a reception counter on the second floor. Weird, flowy decor was spread out across the space, all curvy edges and muted cool hues of furniture, and the entire shop smelled kind of like warm pecan pie.  
You don’t really like pecan pie, but it fits. 

There’s plenty of natural light to go by today, and you settle into your favorite corner with a book, your legs tucked under you. 

You fall asleep. 

Raph is worried about you.  
He can’t help it. Old habits, and all that.  
...Whatever. There are obviously some things that he’s refusing to think about.  
He hasn’t seen you at all since Donnie blew up at you, and that had been over a day ago. Leo said that the two of you had talked, but Raph isn’t a guy to accept token words. He needs cold hard cash, real deal proof. 

He needs to see you.  
“I’m gonna go find her,” he tells exactly two people, and strides towards the simulation bay.  
April, one of those people, jumps to her feet. “I’ll go with.” She grins. “We’ll drag her out of there if we have to.”  
Raph snorts. “That’s what I like about you, O’Neil.”

They can’t find you. The simulation room is hot enough to sting when they enter, and the entire scene is covered in an endless sea of black sand. 

There you are - head to toe in carapace armor, posture lax and defeated.  
Raph calls your name, but blistering wind carries it off. You fall into the sand.  
Just before the scene changes, he swears he spots frost on your armor. 

The room changes to something cramped and square - your room on Dregg’s ship, maybe?  
It’s silent save for a dissonant hum under his feet. April looks thoroughly freaked out.  
Raph snaps his fingers at her, snapping her out of it. 

“What’s that look for? Where are we?”  
“I… don’t… know,” April says slowly, quietly, like she’s afraid that if she’s any louder something will hear them, which is ridiculous. “But. This whole thing is awake.”  
Raph does not piss his shell, but it’s a damn near thing. 

“What? What’s awake? The simulation?”  
“This room. This ship.”

A hand comes down on Raph’s shoulder, and on freaked-the-fuck-out reflex he flips the offender over his shoulder.  
Leo groans. “God, Raph. Nice throw, bro.”

Raph yanks him to his feet without an apology. Leo knows he means it, anyway.  
April asks, “What are you doing in here?”  
Leo raises his brow at the two of them. “I could ask you the same thing. You guys do know that this is the equivalent of scraping around in her subconscious, right? This is a major breach of privacy.”

“ _Yeah, guys, you shouldn’t be in there. It’s extremely dangerous,_ ” comes Donnie’s disembodied voice from the ceiling. Raph almost retracts into his shell. God, what a fucking day this has been. 

Leo shoots the ceiling a look. “Donnie.”  
“ _I’m safe, this is the surveillance deck. I came to check when I saw that the simulator room’s been active since yesterday. Mikey’s up here with me._ ”  
“ _What up!_ ”

Raph frowns. “Where’s Casey?”  
“He said he and Fugitoid were going to a merchant moon, whatever that is,” April answers. “Apparently, there’s a high chance of violence.”  
Raph says, “Good for him. Poor guy needed a spa day.”

Leo snorts, offering his hand for a high three. Raph would be damned if he didn’t take it, so he does. Nice.  
The simulation shudders. The room’s dingy little overhead light flickers.  
Raph glances up at it.  
“What is this?”

A muscle jumps in Leo’s jaw. “Her cell, I think.”  
As if on cue, you kick the door open, striding in proudly. Mona follows, slower. You both look to be in extremely good moods despite the circumstances, but Raph feels like he’s been kicked in the chest. There’s a hole there now, and the drag of cold air through it makes him want to scream. 

The three of them don’t say anything as you bounce excitedly by the adjacent door, which reveals a bathroom when opened.  
“C’mon, Iggy,” you say, nudging her, “hook a fucker up! Gimme that sweet hot shower privilege!”  
“I still do not understand what a ‘fucker’ is,” says Mona, but pulls a key from her belt and inserts it into a hole under the shower head before twisting. 

Something clicks. The wall honest to God chitters. Raph watches your smile widen drastically.  
“Yesssssssss,” you say, pumping your fist. Raph feels sick. “I want an Alaskan King next. Maybe like, two pillows. I _will_ have full fucking commodities up in this bitch!”

The room goes dark, glitch-changed to a different time. They’re all still standing gawking at the bathroom door, but you’re hunched at the sink now. The vibrant, lively energy has been sucked out of the room.  
You’re fighting off tears. Raph steps into the bathroom with you.  
His hand finds your shoulder, muscle memory. 

“Sweetheart,” he tries. “Time to wake up, come on.”  
You’re warm and solid under his hand, which seems weird, but you don’t react. Looking into the sink, he sees why. 

Blood. The bright blueness of it is eye-catching, nearly the color of Leo’s mask or Mikey’s eyes or something else morbidly familiar to be compared to. The sky, maybe. 

Clotted globs of it are dissolving against the sides of the basin. It won’t come out from under your nails. You’re scrubbing so hard at them, your pretty hands shaking. Raph’s chest caves a little at the sight, unable to stand it. Your movements are jerky and full body, like you can’t control your minute movements.The beds of your nails are bleeding a little.  
Raph jostles your shoulder.  
“Sweetheart?”

Leo says, “These are memories,” speaking the awful thought into reality. “She can’t hear you.”  
April sounds torn up, close to tears, dismayed: “This is horrible. This is really… where they made-”

You punch the mirror faster than anyone can react to it, hand shattering the glass and throwing shards everywhere with a yell.  
You grab the sides of the sink like you can tear it from the wall and Raph shouts at Leo, “We need to stop her!”  
“We can’t, we just have to-”

Dregg. The bridge. April is clinging to the top edge of Leo’s shell for support. Raph steps closer to where you stand in front of Dregg, staring that stupid bug full in the face.

You tug your helmet off exhaustedly. You look small even with the carapace armor widening your shoulders.  
There are dark circles under your eyes and your pallor is ashen. There’s blood spattered around your neck and in your hair, seeped through the gaps of your armor. 

“Well done!” Dregg claps excitedly. Raph immediately decides that he hates him enough to kill him. “You were an excellent sport today, Czach.”  
Raph watches you try to focus on him, on his praise. You look like you’re dissociating. Leo makes a strangled noise when he notices.  
“The cargo on that ship was important, human. I thank you for your service,” he adds, and Raph can see the moment your gaze sharpens.

Your voice is beat to shit when you speak, scratchy and hoarse. It breaks over every other word, too weak to use. “You told me I wasn’t killing anyone.”  
April walks out. Raph hears the door slam behind her, but it’s a distant thing in his head. 

“ _Leo-_ ”  
“We’ve come this far, Donnie. We need to get her out,” is all Leo says, and Raph looks at him. The two of them don’t say anything for a moment, testing each other.  
“ _Just… be careful. It’s not pretty, and the tech tends to exaggerate the psyche and induce nightmares when it’s caught off guard,_ ” Donnie warns, but doesn’t tell them to leave.  
So they stay. 

“You wouldn’t complete missions if I ordered you to kill, would you? You made that very clear from the beginning, human.” Dregg’s former manner has all but gone up in smoke, and his demeanor is cut from flint now. “So I tried the nice way. The carrot, I believe you Terrans call it, not the stick?”  
You look at your boots. Your hands are twitching.  
“No carrot, then. Here’s the stick: your room is back to square one. If you don’t go on missions, I invade your planet.”

Raph hears your breath pick up.  
He mutters, “Shit,” and Leo shuts him up with a hand held out to silence him. 

“I’ll make your next mission easy for you: infiltrate the Fugitoid’s ship. Get me intel that I can _use,_ and when I call you back, you might have your former accommodations. No strings attached, your planet is free.”  
The simulation trembles like rolling thunder, deep and impactful. Leo and Raph both fight for footing as you say, “When do I start?”

It’s different now, Raph sees. The room. It’s not really a room anymore. He and Leo stand on a side-branch from the bridge, staring at a wall covered in insect-like pods. You’re in one, Raph sees, and fights the urge to cut you out of it.

Your eyes are open, wide fucking open, and Mona walks by you reach for her feebly, begging, but Mona doesn’t outwardly react.  
You’re racked with some sort of foreign pain, making you curl forward in the sludge and scream bubbles out of the sides of the face mask. 

Raph can’t move. Mona writes something down on a tablet and he’s never seen such a lack of compassion in his life. He’s panicking, just a little, because who is Mona if not kind, who is she if not quiet and brave and strong and heroic? What is she doing here, why isn’t she helping, what is that expression on her face? What does it mean?  
Who the hell is Mona?

Why does Raph want to hit her?

Leo says, “I can’t do this,” and his voice is wrecked when he does, and Raph hears the drag of his katana just before he strikes - the pod comes open with relative ease and you slump out of it, coughing up goo. 

Your breaths are coming fast and finicky, panicked and shaking, and Leo tries to settle you by asking if he can touch you.  
You don’t respond, reaching around yourself to claw at your back to get at the implant, Raph realizes. You’re trembling all over, vocal and frustrated and afraid afraid afraid.  
He tries, “Sweetheart. SWEETHEART.”

Your gaze snaps up. You look like a rabid animal. Raph fights the instinct to freeze.  
“You’re in the simulation room,” Leo says gently. You blink. Your hair is plastered yellow to your forehead. 

You mutter, “No spinal thingy.”  
Leo smiles a little, like that one little bright spot helps soothe this whole nightmare. Maybe it does, for him. Raph still wants to punch someone.  
“No spinal thingy,” Leo confirms, and despite the obvious mess you are, he smooths a hand over your slick hair. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

You nod blearily. You almost look too exhausted to cry, like you’ve been wrung out. Raph offers his back, and you climb on without protest. 

Leo leads the two of you back towards the door, but the second your head hits Raph’s shoulder the room goes black again.  
“ _The headband,_ ” says Donnie urgently, “ _Quick - get it off-_ ”

Mona stands in front of you. You’re on your knees. The cell is tiny around you, and the barrel of Mona’s blaster is pressed against your temple. Raph grasps for you, looking for you on his back, but it looks like the simulator yanked you back in. 

“You will not speak of me to Raph,” Mona’s saying. Raph watches the line of your throat when you swallow. “Promise me.”

You don’t. Instead, you ask, “Why is it so important? Why him, huh?”  
Mona _rokka rokka_ s, which Raph had found endearing at one point. Now it’s just unnerving. 

“He is… good,” says Mona. Her expression is tender, making Raph go to war with himself. He can see Leo staring at him from the corner of his eye, awesome. That’ll definitely be a chat for another time. “He is naive. He can’t help but see the good in people.”  
“Hard not to when that’s all you show,” you say, smiling, “faker. Raph hates liars, you know.”

Mona kicks you over, planting a huge boot on your chest. Your grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it gets sharper. You’ve struck a nerve and you know it.  
“You gonna leave marks? What would Dregg do, I wonder. You’re damaging his property, you know.”  
“And that is all you are,” Mona retorts, “property. I doubt Dregg will care much, that being the case. You can always be stitched.”  
The tip of her boot nudges your chin. Your head knocks back against the floor, letting your gaze settle on the ceiling. Your eyes have gone a little distant. 

“Yeah,” you agree, without infliction, “Maybe.”  
Raph has to make a choice. He knows that. 

“He’ll fail you someday,” you say, and he stalls. What?  
Apparently Mona has the same thought. “What does that mean?”  
“You see this tough, strong animal, all rough edges and hard-cut knives and whatever, but that’s surface-level shit. Child’s play. He’ll break down and he’ll need you to put him back together and you won’t be there because of your toxic Salamandrian hang ups. How long have you known him? How many layers have you cracked? Not nearly as many as I have, sister. Not by a long shot. Raph isn’t all about strength or prowess or whatever you’re measuring him by.”

Mona doesn’t say anything for a long time. “You will not take him from me.”  
You scoff. Raph fights the urge to smile. “I don’t have to.”  
“He is a blind warrior and a fool. He will yield to me.”  
“Okay, is that _actual_ Salamandrian love, or are you just a psycho?”

Mona breaks your nose without preamble. The sound it makes under her boot will haunt Raph until he dies.  
Leo cries out in alarm, Raph staggers on his feet, and you shout, “FUCK!” and reach for your bleeding face. 

“Male Salamandrians yield to the females,” says Mona, and Raph swears she looks a little fond. “Raph has chosen me. He will not be swayed.”  
You shout, “ _God,_ Iggy, what the fuck-”  
Raph sure does feel swayed right now. Wow. Leo drags you out from under Mona’s foot. 

The simulation flickers, then boots up to show what looks like a merchant moon.  
Raph doesn’t know what you ever came here for. He hopes it was cookies or something.  
He and Leo share a look. 

You’re fighting.  
Arguing, actually, with a six-armed woman from some planet too distant for Raph to care about. All he cares about right now is you, short by comparison but no less fierce, haggling with a vendor about the price of a knife, it looks like.

The throng is thick and bustling around you, fast-paced and anxiety-inducing. You aren’t wearing your helmet, discarded in favor of the oxygen-rich atmosphere.

The vendor throws her arms up so far they hit her sheathed spear with a clatter, squabbling in some weird jittery-fast warbling language while you argue back in English. 

“This knife isn’t worth seven hundred Fiq and that’s that,” you say, earning yourself some wild sixfold hand gesticulation in response. A sharp reply follows.  
“I’m _saying_ that no good fighter’s gonna buy it for seven, lady. I’ll take it for four.”  
Another argument, more frustrated.  
You spread your hands. “It isn’t an insult to your craft, it’s an honest fact! Even the guy before me said so. The knife is fine, but it’s not seven-hundred-Fiq material.”  
More warbling.  
“How about five fifty?”  
The next response is quicker, louder, more concerning.  
“What do you mean, _quit arguing?_ This is haggling, lady, get it - OH WOW.”

She totally just swung that spear at you. Raph doesn’t think he even saw her move - six arms must be good for something after all. 

You dodge, trying to keep her away from the crowd, but she jabs, lightning-quick, and you aren’t spared. The spear goes straight through the side of your gut and out again, leaving you gushing red into the dirt as you curl in on yourself.  
The crowd barely parts, people stepping back to see what happened but offering no help whatsoever as you bleed to death alone on some backwater boondock planet.

Raph falls to his knees. Leo doesn’t move, rooted to the spot.  
You gasp like a fish out of water, and Raph feels his eyes burn when blood drips from the edge of your mouth and hits the ground in heavy droplets.  
His head hangs low.  
He’s had enough. 

“Please,” he croaks, “no more.”  
He presses his head against yours, eyes closed as tightly as he can manage. Images of you linger behind his eyes: you, drowning, crying for mercy, for humanity, nose broken and head full of hopelessness.  
“Wake up,” he tells you, and your breaths slow down before picking up again, struggling with only one lung to work with. “ _Wake up!_ ”

You stop breathing.  
His eyes fly open. He grasps at the slack hand that’d been holding your side.  
“No-” He presses it back against the wound, trying to do anything to stop this insane nightmare. “You can’t - this didn’t - it didn’t happen like this, what-”

The simulator blacks out.  
Raph is left with your unconscious body in the dark for seconds upon seconds, grabbing at the leftover carapace armor that you’re still wearing to drag you close and he absolutely _hates_ it like he hates roaches and leaving sensei behind and he hates it like he hates Dregg and the invasion and this whole stupid space fuckaround because if he hadn’t talked to that stupid war-deranged Triceraton all those months ago you wouldn’t be here gasping in his arms like you’re dying and it’s all his fault. It’s all his fault and he hates it. 

Leo tries, “Raph-”  
“She _can’t,_ ” he insists, and if his mask is wet then that’s his business. He can hear Leo trying to find him in the dark, footsteps light and hesitant, feeling his way around.  
Your breathing evens out. 

Raph falls into despair as the lights come on.  
“Raph!” Donnie. Raph can hear April and Mikey behind him. Your armor is weird and awkward against his shell where he’s trying to hold you against him. “I found the backdoor in the system and temporarily shut it down. She’s okay, the headband gives me a vital readout! She’s just asleep - whoa.”

Leo looks at Raph at the same time that Donnie notices it - Raph looks like shit. He can feel it. Absolutely wrecked. No one mentions it aside from that, but there’s definitely a change in the room.  
“Come on,” Donnie says, a lot gentler than he was a moment ago. “Let’s get her to the med bay.”

“No,” says April, and they all look at her in surprise. Her voice wavers with an emotion that Raph can’t put a name to. “She deserves a bed. She’s not injured. At the very least, she deserves a bed.”

You wake up in Raph’s room, you think. God, your head hurts. Your sleep had felt weird and choppy, cut up by weird nightmares before it smoothed out.  
You blink blearily at the blob to your right, finding yourself stripped of outer armor and pressed pliant and comfy against something warm. A blanket covers you and the thing, and when your eyes clear you try not to scream before you realize that it’s Raph that’s next to you. 

“Twice this week,” you mutter, and he jolts so hard that you think he might’ve been having a bad dream. You pat his stomach apologetically, seeing as it’s the only thing your pinned arms can effectively reach. “Sorry. Nightmare?”

He looks down at you like you’ve lost your mind. His face is kind of ruddy in that way it gets after he cries hard, you see.  
You sit up, chest tight as your eyes rove over him. “What happened? Are you okay?”  
He yanks you down. You hit his chest with a sound of protest but stop moving when you feel him trembling. 

“Nightmare, she asks,” he mutters to himself. Then, to you: “You fell asleep in the simulator. We had to go get you.”  
Your stomach plummets like you’re on a rollercoaster, but instead of thrill in your chest it’s dread.  
You weren’t expecting him to say that. Does the simulator really have that power? Weird. Kind of invasive, but impressive nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you murmur.  
“I’m gonna kill’im,” Raph says darkly. You make an inquisitive, bewildered noise, and he elaborates, “Dregg.”  
You frown, laying your head down. “Wasn’t he swallowed by C’Thugga the cosmic monster?”  
“I’ll get it to un-swallow him, and then I'll kill him,” he mutters.

You laugh, scared and relieved and recovering from sleep. “That simple?”  
“That simple,” he says.  
“That’s a lot of trouble to go through to make a point.”  
“Not to me,” says Raph. “Not for what he did to you.”

Your chest does something hope-bright and finicky that you blame on your rebooted nightmare-brain.  
Ghosts of impressions hit you as you remember the loop of memories you’d relived, but thinking of Raph going through them with you drives you up the fucking wall with anxiety - you don’t like who you were all those weeks ago.  
You don’t like what Dregg drove you to be. 

You need to tell him, you decide.  
“You were what kept my head above water,” you say, and hope to God that he understands. “There wasn’t anything else. Just you.”  
From the way his expression goes slack, you think he gets it. 

“And I know,” you add quietly, “That I could’ve been better. I could have done a lot of things differently.”  
A dead crew of sixteen. Blue shining wetly off of your armor. G’Throkka sewing your suit seams late at night.  
“A lot of things,” you repeat, refusing to look at him. “But I’m here now because of you. So thanks, in an indirect way.”

He hangs his head. It takes you a nervous moment to realize that he’s laughing.  
You wilt. “What?”  
Raph drags a hand down his face before scrubbing at his eyes. He smiles at you, all happy teeth and laughing eyes, and relief hits you like a bullet train.  
“You’re ridiculous,” is all he says. 

You smile, and when you let your head fall it hits his chest with a _thunk._  
“If I’m ridiculous, I get it from you,” you tell the front of his shell. His hand cuffs the side of your head, making you laugh.  
“Go back to sleep, jackass,” he replies.  
“What time is it?”

“Like, two.”  
“In the morning? Damn.”  
Raph clears his throat.  
You blink.  
“Two in the _afternoon?_ ” You bolt upright, swaying a little as you try to climb over him and make a break for the bridge. “We’ve gotta _go,_ we’ve got shit to do!”

He gets you by the waist, patiently holding on until you quit trying to leave.  
“Shit can wait a day,” he tells you quietly, maneuvering you until you’re caged between him and the wall. 

Well, you can’t argue with sound logic.  
You lie back down without preamble, letting Raph’s warm hand press you forward until you’re eye-level with his neck. Everything borders on almost-too-hot in the space you’re pressed into, but you don’t want to be anywhere else.  
You relax almost immediately, and the soft lull of the ship helps the two of you fall asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love it? hate it? need sleep on it? i don't blame you this one's a rollercoaster 
> 
> meanwhile:  
> you: that's a lot of trouble to go through to make a point.  
> raph: not to me. not for what he did to you.  
> me: don't i KNOW this song????????
> 
> (horatio: i'll take care of you.  
> hamlet: it's rotten work.  
> horatio: not to me. not if it's you.)  
> whoops  
> horatio and hamlet were cousins though so NOT the same context obviously but yeah i rlly reinvented the wheel there didn't i 
> 
> anyway we're approaching an arc w Iggy/Mona that's gonna rock my fuckin socks off. and i ask you, valued reader: are you ready?


	8. Episode 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can’t run away from it anymore, you decide. You’ve always preferred to do things headfirst anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning this one is LONG  
> i am so tired  
> this was like  
> 6 hours. of writing.

Sleep inertia is kicking your ass.   
It’s not really something you’re used to - the migraine, the light sensitivity, the heaviness of your bones.   
You feel well-rested, at least, so you guess you can’t complain.   
A nasty fuckin’ black coffee is helping the migraine as the team communes on the bridge.

Leo is stoic and unyielding this morning, all sharp edges and seriousness. “Status, everyone?”  
Donnie, ever the kissass, pipes up first. “The Tachyon Drive is repaired. We are fully fueled and functional. Yeah, boy!”

Mikey is on a different page today, it seems. 

“Bros, I have important news,” he says sagely. Then he grins, all teeth. “The HOLO simulator is repaired, and Mikey's Pepperoni Pizzaland Theme Park simulation is almost complete.”

You watch Raph consider it.   
“If you built it, I don't want to see it,” he snarks finally, and blows a raspberry at Mikey, who pulls a face.   
Leo doesn’t look impressed. “Hello, we've got way more important things to worry about right now, Mikey.”

“Hey, speaking of the long list of things for us to worry about,” starts Donnie, and you look over at him with rapt attention. He pointedly refuses to look at you. “We still don't have enough Zemulaks to fix the Time Jump Engine. Has anyone thought about that?”

“My friends, I know this journey has been arduous, but there is still a chance. If we can destroy the last piece of the Black Hole Generator, at least we can slow the Triceratons down,” Fugitoid says, and the room’s tension relaxes a little.

Everyone on the bridge jolts at once when an alarm starts to blare.   
You can’t read the language on the display, but April says, “Incoming distress signal. To us?”

Fugitoid accepts the call. Your stomach drops. 

You murmur, “Iggy,” and the energy in the room goes stiff.

You watch Raph trail over to the display, as if in a trance. It hurts a little, but whatever. You won’t butt in. You told yourself you’d let Raph make his decision, and you are.  
Raph sounds awed when he says, “Mona Lisa?”

You let your gaze flick away from the screen. 

Iggy sounds genuine when she speaks. Funny. “Brave Raphael, we were attacked. Commander G'Throkka has been captured. I need your help.”

Your head whips back to look at her so fast you feel your neck pop. April winces.   
_Who the hell felled G’Throkka?_

Raph seems to have the same sentiment in mind when he asks, “Captured? By who?”

“A vile bounty hunter called Armaggon.”  
You grit your teeth and fight the urge to say something stupid. Obviously, something is weird here. There’s no way Armaggon took G’Throkka - not without a price. 

“I thought Armaggon and Dregg were swallowed by C’Thugga,” you accuse.

Iggy looks at you finally, and the sudden and violent change in her eyes from gazing tenderly at Raph to glowering coldly at you gives you whiplash. 

“Armaggon escaped,” she says simply. “I do not know about Dregg’s whereabouts, but he probably survived as well.”

Casey whoops. “Yes!”  
You and April look at him like he’s stupid, because he kind of is. Casey catches your eye and shrugs unapologetically, which you can respect. 

Mikey, on the other hand, goes in for the kill while Raph spaces out, his eyes on Iggy.   
“Ooh, Raph, kiss-kiss.” He pitches his voice down to sound like a dude-bro. In any other circumstance it’d be hilarious, but here it just stings. “Oh, Mona, smoochy, smoochy, smoochy.”

Raph looks in your direction. You feign disinterest, picking at your nails as he turns on Mikey. “Can it, Mikey.”  
Mikey snickers. April sighs. 

Iggy doesn’t seem terribly fazed by the obvious tension in the room. You have a theory that she’s just willfully ignorant of it. 

Mona Lisa insists, “Raphael. It brings me great joy to see you again.”  
You quietly fake a gag. April goes down in a loud fit of laughter, which makes you grin. 

Raph glances at the two of you before answering, sounding hesitant. “I’m… glad you’re alright.”

Leo, prince amongst turtles, steers the conversation back on track. “So what happened out there?”

“Armaggon has captured G'Throkka and delivered him to the planet Sectoid-One.”

You mutter, “That's Lord Dregg's home world. He controls the entire system.”

April blinks owlishly. “ _The Explorer's Guide to the Universe_ says it's one of the most feared, evil parts of the cosmos. This is gonna be a blast.”  
You frown. “You’re not joking. That’s a real thing that you just mentioned.”

Donnie butts in, “I’m on chapter seven. It’s a very titillating book.”  
You point at him, very serious. “I don’t like the way you used that word.”  
He tenses.

You smile to show that you’re joking. Donnie smiles lopsidedly back. Something eases off a little between the two of you. It’s not much, not nearly enough, but it’s a start.

Raph is the one to pull the conversation back around this time. “We'll help you rescue Sal Commander. He's one of us.”  
You grin incredulously, looking at Donnie again. You echo, “ _Sal Commander?_ ”  
Donnie snorts. 

“Raph's right,” says Leo, oblivious to your delight. “We help our friends.”  
Fugitoid nods, confirming. “Very well then. Course to Sectoid-One plotted, initiating Tachyon Warp.”

Mona Lisa says, “Thank you, Raphael.” And then, looking at you: “Thank you, brave warriors.”  
Conversation over, her window is shrunk to accommodate for the front windshield, and the ship lurches into lightspeed. 

Halfway to the system, April speaks up uneasily. “I don't know, I've got one of those feelings.”

Casey is quick to try to assuage her: “Don't worry about bug face. Your man Casey's here to protect you.”  
You fake another gag. April rolls her eyes, smiling as Mikey bursts into laughter this time. 

Fugitoid pipes in suddenly, and you realize that the ship has stopped.   
“Welcome to the Sectoid System,” he says grandly. “Population: bugs. Lots and lots of bugs.”

Everything around the ship looks shiny and sickly-green and nebulous. You blink up at weird, insectoid creatures crawling over asteroids and free-floating between open space and the atmosphere ahead. 

“This is the most metal part of the galaxy I have ever seen,” Casey murmurs, totally awed. You can’t say you agree with the sentiment. 

Fugitoid pops his bubble with nerd shit, thank God. “It's not metal at all, but organic rock. This world used to be even more grand and populated before Dregg took power. He is of a race of ancient cosmic insects that created these hive-worlds.”

You didn’t really need the lore, but you have to admit that it’s a little interesting. 

Landing on the planet goes off without a hitch, and you step off the ship closest to Donnie, trailing behind him as the group meets up with Mona - fuck, Iggy. You don’t want to fall for that “Mona” bullshit. You’ve seen Iggy’s truer, weirder colors. You won’t be tricked again. 

Sectoid One’s planet is a funky shade of brown, like dry dirt or the color of stale chocolate. Its surface is hilly and porous, misshapen in a way that makes you think of a bug nest. The ground beneath you hums the same way Dregg’s ship did, multiplied a thousandfold. The sky above you is a noxious green, murky with low-hanging clouds.

You grab the bottom of your helmet, tugging it more securely onto your head. This place freaks you the fuck out.

Mikey steps closer to you, peeking around you to talk to Raph. You wonder what the hell he’s doing.   
“I bet this is majorly freaking you out, Raph, being afraid of bugs and all.”  
You snicker. 

Raph forces back a startle, you notice. “Not in front of... Whatever, I'm totally fine. No prob. Not itching all over or freaking out, not me.”  
He pauses. You watch him scratch at his arms, totally disproving his point as the team steps down into a dip in the terrain. Raph catches your eye, looking flustered. 

You keep walking. 

You all trek for several meters in silence until Fugitoid speaks up. “I think I've located Dregg's headquarters.”  
You mutter, “Thank God. The vibes in this group are fucking nasty.”  
Mikey smothers a laugh. 

Iggy is way ahead of the group, wow. Cool.   
She calls, “Come, my friends. I will lead us to Dregg's lair,” and you all change course a little to follow her. 

Something about this feels wrong. _Friends. Lead you to Dregg’s lair._  
Your breaths come shorter.   
It feels like you’re walking straight into a trap.   
April glances at you with wide eyes like she heard the rising fear in your head. You simmer a little to save face. 

Mikey breaks your train of thought with the stupidest thought ever: “It's like walking across a giant wad of slowly baking pizza dough.”  
It’s perfect. It totally snaps you out of your anxiety to level him with a look. 

“It's an organic compound, not unlike hornet hives back home,” Donnie informs you like that’ll make this shitshow even marginally better. It does not.

“Thanks for the info there, Donnipedia. Can we start kicking in some insect faces already?” Casey accepts a no-looking low five from Leo, grinning. “Thanks, Leo.”  
You watch him idle back to look down a tunnel, sticking his photon hockey stick somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be. 

When you look back at him again, he’s screaming. Leo charges past the group with Casey on his heels and turns with his katana raised. 

April glares at Casey, a sentiment you share as a horde of giant, sickly-colored wasps surges from the tunnel.   
“What'd you do now, Jones? Ah! Space apples!” She smacks one out of the way with her tessen, sending it spiraling off into the distance. You grin, kicking one out of the way. “Grand slam!”

The ensuing fight doesn’t last long - the wasps are pretty gnarly looking, but as far as you’re concerned, they’re weirdly weighted and aren’t very fast, so they’re easy to knock back. 

You fight for breath, looking around for stragglers. 

Casey whoops, pumping his fist. “Whoo! - Yes, we did it!”

You catch a glimpse at Donnie and your stomach plummets to the ground with a _splat._  
His face is swollen like a greenish-pink water balloon, nasty and white from the sting. 

Donnie slurs, “Guys, this can't be good.”   
April gasps. Casey guffaws obnoxiously, but you wince. 

“I'm hideous!”

The rest of the team gives varying responses of shock.   
You mutter, “That is literally the least of your worries right now.”

Fugitoid tsks. “Oh, dear. We should get him back to the ship immediately.”  
“I'll go with,” offers April. “Come on, Donnie.”

Leo pats his shoulder as they head back. “Hang in there, Don. We'll go for Sal Commander.”  
Again, you’re mystified. _Sal Commander._ It’s hilarious. How they got G’Throkka to agree to that is a mystery. 

You step over the final hill and come to a complete stop, letting your eyes trail up, up, up, to look at Dregg’s castle. It’s an ugly, nightmarish thing. It looks like an older cousin to the ship you stayed on, all gross-brown and covered in carapace.   
You feel a little too on-the-nose with the armor you’re sporting, still donned from your time with Dregg. 

Mikey, on the other hand, is loving every minute of it as he strides past you. You snap out of it and follow him.   
“Dudes, that castle is right out of Crognard.”

Raph comes to a full stop, letting the group pass him as he freaks out a little. “If the castle is - yeesh - one giant bug - _ahh_ \- where do you think they keep the dungeon?”  
You snicker. “Gross, man.”

Raph smiles, opening his mouth to say something when Iggy interrupts, looking at you.  
“Lord Dregg is known to keep his prisoners caged in his throne room. He sees them as trophies. As property.”  
You hold eye contact until Leo speaks again.  
“Dregg's throne room - perfect.”

The throne room is a car crash of toxic colors, sickly yellow and dark purple and black and gunmetal all smashing together in striped machinery that arcs high over your head and makes the room look massive. The curved walls throw your voices in all directions. 

Casey gapes up at the archways as you enter. “This place is so met-”

Raph slaps a hand over his mouth. “We know, Casey. Metal. Everything on this stupid planet is metal. Shut up already.”  
You can’t contain your laughter this time and Raph soaks it up like sunlight, watching you with a breathless expression you can’t quite name.

You peter out once you notice it. You tilt your head to the side.   
“You alright?”  
Raph gathers a response, but Leo cuts him off before he can continue.

“Sal Commander,” he says, and you look over to see G’Throkka in a pod like the one you’d woken up in all those weeks ago.   
Your chest heaves. Static bleeds into your ears. 

_He’s here,_ your head says. You half expect something to spark along your spine, but nothing comes.   
_That’ll be you again when Dregg wins._

You can’t be here. You - you all need to leave. This is off, it’s all wrong, you can’t be here.  
You’re rooted in place, your helmet a noose, your suit a straightjacket. Your breaths are too shallow to give you anything. 

Distantly, you hear Mikey from six feet in front of you: “Sal Commander, it's us. Hey!”  
He dashes forward. 

Horrified, you watch a globe of amber shimmer to life around Mikey and Casey, taking you with them. You’re stock-still in the crowded space, barely breathing as the team realizes what you’ve been dreading. 

Casey goes first. “What the heck!”

Laughter erupts from the shadows, triumphant and ugly. Loud, you think. _Familiar,_ you realize.  
Your hunch is correct - in front of you Dregg sits on a throne fit for a nasty conniving bug dude like himself and leans into the light. 

“Lord Dregg.” Leo glowers at him. Dregg’s face splits into the most grotesque smile you’ve ever seen. 

“Finally,” Dregg gloats, “the Turtle aliens are mine.”

“You mean ours, Dregg. Don't you cut old Armaggon out of the deal.” You see now that the stupid robo-shark is standing to his left. Dregg scoffs before laying a clawed hand on Iggy’s shoulder.

“You did well, Y'Gythgba.” Dregg chuckles. Now he finally looks at you. “And you, little Czach. Welcome home.”

You stiffen as Armaggon starts to laugh. Mikey looks back at you. If your helmet were off, he could see the obvious panic in your eyes, but it isn’t. You’re in full gear.   
You wish, just for a moment, that the helmet was off. 

Raph is snagged on Iggy’s betrayal. You think him a fool to have fallen for it, but you can’t blame him. Iggy was nothing if not a good actor.   
“Mona? How could you?”

Iggy looks like she wants to reply, but Dregg beats her to it. “Fools! You fell right into my trap.”

Raph isn’t having it. You can’t say he isn’t persistent. “Mona, why did you betray us? Why did you betray me?”

Leo isn’t concerned with it, jumping into action. “Raph, free the others,” he yells, and charges Armaggon.   
Raph doesn’t move. You feel your shoulders loosen a little as you look over at him.   
He looks devastated. 

A Vreen jumps into Leo’s sights, blasting him back via arm cannon. You forgot they had those.   
Leo hits the ground, groaning. 

You try to blitz, but Dregg merely laughs as the Vreen advances on Leo and takes him to the ceiling before Leo manages to cut one of its arms off and stab another one with both katana on the way down. The third Vreen - where had that one come from? - gets the jump on him and knocks him to the ground.  
He doesn’t get up. Valiant effort.  
Raph still hasn’t moved.   
Shit, you have to do something. 

Casey beats the barrier with a baseball bat.   
Mikey cries, “Leo!” and you decide you’ve had enough. 

Armaggon advances. A chill runs up your spine. 

“Raph,” you call. He doesn’t even twitch. You sure feel special. “Raph, come on! We need you!”

Casey joins in: “Come on, bro, snap out of it.”  
Raph drops his sais. 

You yell in frustration. “ _Get up!_ ”  
Armaggon stops short. 

“You're _pathetic,_ ” he goads, and you have no choice but to watch on in horror as Armaggon’s heavy arm elbows Raph to the floor. 

You try, “Armaggon, WAIT-” but Armaggon takes Raph by the front of the shell and pistons his arm into Raph’s face.   
He only stops when the sound becomes wet with blood.  
Raph slumps back, blacked out. 

Only after they wrangle Leo and Raph into the barrier does Dregg start speaking again.

“Once I discovered the Red Turtle had a thing for the Salamandrian female, the plan came easily,” Dregg tells you all. God, that’s sick. “His interest in Czach was interesting, but I knew the little humanoid wouldn’t go along. Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Hey,” Armaggon snaps, “Who hacked their intergalactic love-mail? Armaggon. Who captured the big lizard? Armaggon.”

Iggy hasn’t moved since Dregg started speaking. She’s standing in front of the cage you’re in, shoulders high with shame. 

Dregg snaps, “All right, we get it!”  
“Just saying.”

Raph groans into consciousness. God, there’s blood around his mouth.   
You want to ease the ache, but Mikey is already there and you aren’t sure what the pressure in your chest is right now. Luckily, Leo covers his bases as the (justifiably pissed) voice of reason. 

“Raph, what happened back there?”

You press your hand to the barrier, desperately trying to figure a way out of it. 

Mikey saves Raph’s ass. “Whoa, hold up, Leo. Raph just took the worst kind of punch: one to the heart.” He makes a hilarious little squeezing motion with his hand. “Squish, squish.”  
Raph bats Mikey’s hand off of his shoulder, finally looking at you.

You don’t hold it for more than a moment, but you try to convey everything: fear, disappointment, worry. 

Mikey gets to his feet, unaware of the exchange. He glares at Dregg, fists raised.  
“What are you gonna do with us, Lord Bug-breath?”

Dregg doesn’t hesitate. You’re a little impressed despite the fact that he’s completely unimpressive and you fucking hate him. “First, I desire the fragments of the Black Hole Machine.”

“You're too late, Dregg,” Leo counters, holding his injured arm. Something prickles in you when you think about the cause. “The Triceratons have them.”

Dregg lurches forward, rancorous. You can’t suppress your flinch. Raph catches it.   
“What? Wait! Where is the other Turtle?”

Leo is in the business of pulling lies out of his ass today, it seems. “All the way across the galaxy, Dregg. Donatello is bringing an army of Salamandrians as we speak. Nobody messes with Donatello.”  
He grins. 

You mutter, “We are _fucked._ ”

G’Throkka’s pod bursts open. The hunk of alien lizard slumps to the floor wetly, coughing as he shoves himself to his feet and takes a stand next to Iggy’s side.   
“You promised to discuss the terms of our home world,” he says hoarsely. “We slaved away for you for months, killing and enslaving and-”

He looks at you. You stare at him in shock through the barrier.

“And torturing.”

Iggy doesn’t seem to notice G’Throkka’s struggle. She says, “We trusted your word, Dregg.”

You can’t help it. You snarl, “And where the fuck are you now, huh? Where’s Raph, Iggy? Who trusts you anymore?”

Dregg ignores you, but seems surprised when you don’t buckle with internal pain.   
“Indeed you did. Come, let us speak in private. Armaggon, keep your eye on our dinner guests. And don't eat them.”

Armaggon groans. “Ah, you always take the fun out of everything, Dregg,” he says, and you watch as Dregg leads the Salamandrians away. 

Iggy hesitates, looking back at Raph one last time, but he refuses to turn. She casts her gaze up to you like she’s asking you to make him look.   
You don’t even bother with expletives. You show her your back. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been stuck. Your helmet is off - the air is breathable - because you couldn’t stand being stuck in the helmet plus the bubble. Too claustrophobic. You’re working on phasing your hand through the wall to no avail. Everything is cast in a shade of orange specific to orange flavored Fanta.   
Nobody speaks. 

You punch the wall. Your gauntlet takes the brunt of the damage, but there’s still a little sting to your knuckles when you pull your hand away.  
Raph murmurs, “I’m sorry,” quietly, brokenly, and you half-turn to look at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

You know he’s hurting. You don’t want to kick him when he’s down, but you’re upset.   
Nobody says anything, so you think they assume he’s talking to you. 

You don’t like it at all, it tastes bad on your tongue, but you mutter, “‘S fine-”

“It’s not,” Raph snarls. It seems more like the sound is directed at himself. “It’s _not._ Hit me, yell at me, hate me, but don’t kiss my ass and tell me that it’s fine. You’ve never done it before and I don’t want you starting now.”

You turn to face him fully, helpless to the smile on your face.   
“I’m pretty mad,” you warn him. 

“Good,” he says, and finally looks you in the eye. Your heart leaps. Dammit, you’re supposed to be angry. “I deserve whatever you’ve got.”

You squat in front of him and reach out slowly, but he flinches anyway. You lick your thumb and wipe a dried smear of blood from the corner of his mouth.   
He looks up at you like you hung the moon. 

“Relax, I’m not gonna hit you.” You pause, thinking. “I’m pretty sure that’s, like, domestic violence.”  
Leo snorts.   
You bravely soldier on.“I’m pissed, but I still trust you. You’ll get us out of here,” you say, and stroke the apple of his cheek with your thumb before withdrawing.

You glance over at Armaggon, who seems to be fucking with something on his wrist.   
“Wanna eat those Turtles,” he mutters to himself. Leo glances back at Mikey and Casey. “So hungry. Turtles look delicious.”

Casey throws his hand up, makeshift taser crackling, and shoves it against the belly of the creature above you. It reels back, screeching as the dome shatters prettily around you.

The Vreen nearby chitter in alarm.   
Armaggon turns. “Ah! You gotta be pulling my fin.”

Leo leaps, landing in front of Armaggon. Casey joins him, baseball bat ready, and Mikey swings his nunchaku chain menacingly.  
Leo says, “Now, Mikey! Go!” and the two of them charge at Armaggon together seamlessly.

Casey heads for a Vreen, skates down. “Goongala!”

You watch Mikey hit the ground a little too hard.   
You tilt your head and look at Raph. “Raph, we gotta fight.”  
He looks up just as you’re both knocked askew by a Vreen, sending you both stumbling to the team. Looking back at it, you see that it almost looks apologetic - head down, clicking sadly. 

You’re confused. 

Dregg shouts, “Enough!” and then turns into a blur. You watch Mikey go down first, then Casey and Leo, and one by one they fall into a pit to your right. Since when had that been there? 

Dregg gets Raph by the throat and heaves him over his head. Raph struggles, trying to twist to get out of his grip, but Dregg tosses him into the depths with a warcry. 

Iggy shouts, “ _No!_ ” and something in you snaps. Everything in you goes quiet.   
G'Throkka stumbles to the edge of the hole. “You vile monster!”  
“Raphael!” Iggy cries, falling to her knees to look over the edge. 

You hear Raph slide to the base of the slope, struggling all the way down, and then nothing. His yell fades into silence. 

You look up at Dregg, heat high in your cheeks as you fight off tears.   
“You…” You shake your head. You’re out of words for him. He’d take anything as a compliment only because you’re so fucked up about it. 

You get to your feet, addressing Iggy as you step into her space. She stumbles away from the pit trying to get away from you, and you feel a sick sort of satisfaction in the way her eyes grow wide when she realizes you aren’t going to stop when she asks. 

You grab the front of her breastplate, hauling her to her feet. She towers over you in height, but her shoulders hunch in so far that she looks tiny.   
She’s afraid. 

You’re terrified to realize that you don’t care.

“You,” you start, trying to stay as calm as possible and inevitably failing, “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you? I told you he’d need you and you weren’t there. At the very least, you owed it to me to keep him safe for breaking my fucking nose.”

She flinches. G’Throkka makes a questioning noise behind you that you ignore.

You laugh, but there’s no humor to it. “Oh, so you _remember_ that? You never brought it up again, so I thought maybe you didn’t. I thought maybe you shoved it under all that bullshit you call Salamandrian pride or whatever the fuck you think you’re pulling. I found out the hard way that you’re pretty good at acting, so convincing the med crew that I’d shattered it in the Tri-Arena wasn’t hard for you.”

You pull your fist back and immediately hesitate. After a moment, you let your arm relax. You can’t do this.   
Iggy’s relief is palpable. It says, _I’ve been let off the hook._

Rage.  
Your fist hits her so hard she rolls back, legs-over-head, and you’re advancing before she can recover. 

“He’s a _good guy,_ Iggy. You wanted him? You threatened me to have him. I sat back. I thought I knew that your thing with him was something obsessive but from a place of genuine interest, but I never anticipated-” You throw your hands out, gesturing to the situation in whole. When she looks up at you, eyes round with fear, you see that her nose is bleeding. You shake your head. “That was my bad. I thought you actually fucking liked him, that you’d _be there for him._ I was wrong about you once, and here we are again. But now it’s your nose that’s bloody. Who’s the property here, Iggy? Because it sure as fuck isn’t me!”

You laugh brightly, angrily, desperately.   
You run your left hand through your hair. It catches in a nest of tangles and you pull your fingers into a fist, clenching against your head. 

“G’Throkka was the most decent guy here and he barely even talked to me! The _Vreen_ were better than you! I thought we were in this together at least a little bit, but you kept waffling your stupid values so often that I never knew who would walk into my cell block the next morning! Your planet or yourself, Y’Gythgba? I don’t give a damn what you pick, but fucking _commit!_ Are you a Salamandrian or aren’t you? _Fight!_ ”

The last word is a snarled bargain, a plea. It’s a death sentence.   
You heave breath after wrathful breath, working yourself further into a rage as she curls in on herself.   
You stand over her, only turning away when you see something shine as it hits the floor beneath her.   
You won’t go any further. 

You charge Dregg, who cries, “ _Vreen!_ ”  
You dodge on reflex, already expecting the click-clack chittering and shiny-green carapace to hit you like a train, but nothing happens. You hesitate. Dregg’s grin falters. 

“ _VREEN!_ ”  
The two Vreen nearby don’t move. They look between you and Dregg, and you swear they look reluctant to fight.   
Dregg snaps his fingers, trying again. You blink rapidly when you realize what’s happening. 

The Vreen _like_ you.   
They’re part of a collective hivemind, so any time you interacted with one, they all felt it - all the light-hearted teasing, the sparring, the gifting.   
You’d given a group of Vreen a stash of cookies from an Ilanu shop once when the merchant gave them to you for free. You used to thank them for opening doors and laugh when they acted weird. You used to race them to the hangar, smiling when they flew past you. 

You tried for friendship with the Vreen, and in turn they don’t want to hurt you.   
Dregg shouts in frustration. “I’ll kill you myself-”

Something hits Dregg in the head, killing his flow. You see that it’s the cup Armaggon was holding when it hits the floor. You exchange a bewildered look with G’Throkka.  
Armaggon panics. “Hold up, Dregg. I didn’t throw it-”

Dregg attacks regardless, backhanding him so hard that he stumbles. “You - aquatic _simpleton-_ ”  
Dregg tackles him. They both go down as Armaggon shouts, “Get offa me, you freak-”

From the side of the room, you see April and Fugitoid sneaking past them to get to your platform and grin. Smart. 

Donnie drops to the floor and moves to spray the two Vreen with what looks like bug-killer, but you shout, “ _Wait!_ ” and he hesitates. The two fly off with one last glance at you.  
You wave, calling out for them to stay safe, and then they’re gone.

Donnie blinks curiously at you. You don’t offer an explanation.   
He reaches down to help Iggy up. “You guys okay?”

Iggy sobs, startling the shit out of all of you. “We have failed you, Donatello.”

April shoots a thick cable down from the ceiling and lowers it into the pit, offering it to the guys. How she knew they were down there is beyond you.   
Meanwhile, Dregg seems to have noticed the commotion.   
He turns away from Armaggon with a yell of, “ _What?_ ”

He bursts into motion, heading straight for Donnie. You move to blitz, but in the blink of an eye Dregg is saying, “Sacrilege!” and shoving Donnie headfirst into his mouth.   
You’re a little weirded out. For all his talk of eating people, you’ve never seen Dregg do it.   
But like a _snake? Whole?_ It just doesn’t make sense. 

Wait. Focus.

Iggy kicks Dregg from behind, forcing Donnie out and sprawling to the ground.   
She looks at you. “I made a terrible mistake,” she says, bolstering. Her sword is drawn. You have to admit that she looks kind of cool. “And I intend to rectify it.”

She charges Dregg.

Some of the Vreen have returned to fight the turtles (they’re still avoiding you. It’s still throwing you for a loop), keeping everyone occupied for the moment as you move to blitz into Armaggon so hard he falls over. 

He looks up at you from the ground, grinning his fugly shark grin. “Ha! I'm gonna enjoy this.”  
You grin in turn, outraged and tired and ready to fight, but Fugitoid quips, “I don’t think you will!” and suddenly Armaggon is hit with a beam of nuclear fusion, bright-hot and thick with energy. You watch his huge tin can of an armor set get blown to shit in one shot, laughing. 

You give Fugitoid a thumbs up. “That was sick as hell!”  
“It was, wasn’t it?’

You’re about to agree, but Dregg hits the ground hard enough to break the floor and falls through with a receding yell. You blink, looking over to see that whatever was in that pit with the turtles was in fact _alive_ and that it’s currently dragging Armaggon to the depths with it.  
The thing in the pit belches like a drunkard, and you burst into laughter.

“Everybody, that way,” Leo says, pointing to a gap in the wall, and you sober up a little. “Go!”

You take a step and immediately falter when you do a head count. “Raph?”

Looks like Iggy got to him first - she drags him up by the armpits and sets him on his feet. She looks like shit - nose crusted with dried blood, eyes red.   
“I'm so sorry I did not tell you the truth, Raphael,” she says, but he swats her arms away and storms towards you. You can’t help the savage rush of satisfaction that comes, but Iggy is at least owed closure. You find your helmet and tuck it under your arm out of habit. 

If that’s… what he’s thinking. If you’re who he’s choosing.   
God, what the fuck. You don’t know what’s going through his head right now and it’s making you fucking _nervous._

“I-” Raph does an about face, pointing a finger at her chest. “I _trusted_ you - I would have fought this war for you. I needed you, and you betrayed me!”  
He scoffs, turning away. He grabs your hand kind of aggressively (you’re not really complaining though, are you?) and drags you to the exit. 

Outside is chaos.   
Everything is fleeing the planet all at once, and the roar of bug wings makes it too loud to even hear yourself think.

Leo shouts something at Fugitoid ahead of you, but you aren’t really paying attention. Raph’s hand is kind of sweaty and he looks pissed as hell, but you’re glad he’s here.   
You shouldn’t have gone that far with Iggy, you think. You were too angry for a confrontation, and the betrayal on top of everything else added a new layer of hurt to all that rage. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a thundering sound, just loud enough to be heard under all the buzzing.   
You and Raph share a look.   
You shout, “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”  
Raph says, “THE REASON WE’RE RUNNING FASTER NOW,” and the two of you book it back to the ship. You’re almost there when Raph looks back and yanks you to a stop.

Iggy and G’Throkka have stopped behind you, facing Dregg on what looks like a giant alien scorpion in front of a horde of more giant scorpions, which is awesome. Scorpions freak you the fuck out. 

Iggy fights to be heard over the roar of wingbeats. “TURTLES, CZACH - GO. GET TO YOUR SHIP.” 

Her sword is drawn. She’s facing Dregg and his weird scorpion thing alone until G’Throkka stands beside her. “WE’LL HOLD THEM OFF.”

Donnie looks torn. “ARE YOU CRAZY? WHAT ABOUT YOUR PLANET - YOUR PEOPLE?”

Iggy shakes her head. Raph’s hand grips yours hard enough to hurt. He’s got that dip in his brow that tells you he’s fighting off tears. “GO. SAVE YOUR WORLD. SALAMANDRIA’S FALL IS MY FAULT, BUT YOU CAN STILL SAVE EARTH. RAPH,” she adds, and he almost breaks your fucking fingers, “I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU.” She turns back to the throng of scorpions. “ROKKA ROKKA!”

She and G’Throkka charge as one. 

Raph looks at you, at Iggy. He closes his eyes.   
You can’t let him do this. 

You let go of his hand. It’s pretty sweaty, so it’s weirdly easy to slip yours out of his grip, actually.   
Not important right now. 

You look him in the eye, then down at his sais. You step into his space, taking them from him and shoving them into his hands.   
His breath catches. You wish you could hear it. 

You nod at the fight. _Go._

He cusses. You don’t hear that either, but you smile anyway because you know what it sounds like.  
You’re right behind him when he leaps into the fray.

Fighting in a crowd like this is new to you, confusing and bustling and surging all at once, and you get separated from Raph almost immediately.   
You find Iggy, though. 

Wordlessly, she offers you her back. You press yours to it, and together you fight.   
You’re an astonishing team, you think as the two of you mow down enemies. It’s really a shame that you couldn’t have been friends under better circumstances.   
Maybe somewhere with no giant war. Somewhere you could sit and talk and laugh without consequence. Someplace where hot water in the shower isn’t lorded over you and you don’t have to worry about fighting over guys or breaking noses. 

You hate Dregg. You’ve always had a weird relationship with the word _hate,_ but you definitely hate Dregg. He fucked up good people and planets. He fucked up Iggy and G’Throkka, twisted them until they fell apart and put themselves back together hollow. 

He fucked you up. You can’t run away from it anymore. 

You see him - Dregg. He’s riding the biggest scorpion, the leader, and as Iggy obliterates enemies behind you you see him move to strike her blind side.   
You have nothing to block him with - you fight with fists, not swords. You have your flimsy little photon dagger at your hip, but you won’t be fast enough. 

You can’t run away from it anymore, you decide. You’ve always preferred to do things headfirst anyway.   
So you blitz.

The stinger hits.   
The effect is immediate - it feels like cold so extreme that it burns, like what your fifth grade science teacher told you dry ice does when touched. 

Venom sears up your spinal cord - you’re already dizzy with the sharpness of the pain - and then the stinger comes out and you slump to your knees like a marionette at rest. 

Iggy finishes Dregg, you think. Everything goes a little blurry in your left eye as the deep, thrumming buzz of evacuating Vreen peters out.   
They’re all gone. Good. 

You see the giant scorpion go down with Dregg on it, you see Iggy mount its stirrups backwards to cut Dregg’s ugly head off. You see his decapitated body fall sideways out of the saddle and hit the ground hard enough to stir up dust. 

Black spots are creeping into your vision. Deep breaths don’t disperse them.   
You can hear shouting.  
Your name, mostly. Someone isn’t with the program and whoops excitedly when the Ulixes soars overhead and absolutely obliterates the last scorpion with a nuclear fusion beam remotely.   
It’s probably Casey. He’s stupid like that. 

Iggy lays a hand on your shoulder. You lean into it, trying to stay upright.

You look up at her and see Raph running towards you at full tilt behind her, fighting to get to you over the sand. He might be a little too far off.  
You smile. 

Her nose is bloody and she’s crying again. You lay a hand over hers.   
“‘M sorry,” you tell her, and shake your head once, resolute and ashamed. “Shouldn’t’ve broken y’r nose.”

She shakes her head frantically, laughing in the way that one does when they’re trying desperately to save face. 

“I more than deserved it,” she tells you.   
“Maybe.” You swallow dryly. “Still shouldn’t’ve.”

You pretend that there aren’t tears on her face when you close your eyes. Something in you is fading, you think. It scares you so badly that you’re stricken silent. 

Opening your eyes again is a fight, but you do it. Raph is close now, probably within earshot.   
_Fuck it._

You lock eyes with Mona. “Be there for him next time,” you tell her. “For me.”  
You surrender. 

You wake up alone. Everything is too bright, white and hard to look at. Light blinds you from above.   
You take a deep breath, and for a moment you think that you’ve died. 

Your hand touches cold metal, warm IV. The sheets are scratchy. You muse that the afterlife would have a higher thread count. 

Walking onto the bridge feels like coming home, which is weird because you aren’t really fond of the bridge.   
It’s got different gravity stability mechanics, so when the artificial gravity blinks out during lightspeed travel the bridge is the first room affected.   
You get the same warning every time - your stomach goes first, for some reason, then your feet lift and everything goes nauseating and floaty and suddenly you’re a too little close to the ceiling thinking about how bad the fall will hurt when the ship stabilizes.   
Then everyone smacks into the floor at the same time, and all is right again. There’s usually some laughter, some complaints and concerns. 

You always laugh at Raph, who looks like he’s seen a ghost. Every time he thanks whatever’s out there that he didn’t puke in his helmet and Leo claps him on the back with a smile. 

Walking onto the bridge feels like coming home. You aren’t fond of the bridge, but maybe the warmth surging in you is because everyone is seated facing away from you and you could totally make some sort of jackass quip to get their attention. 

You’re pretty sure that’s it. 

You can see Iggy next to G’Throkka, both of their heads bowed as they speak in hushed tones near the front windshield.   
Fugitoid is in sleep mode nearby. Someone has placed a pastel blue nightcap on his head. It’s kind of hilarious.   
Raph has his head in his hands, his fingers laced at the back of his head.   
Leo is meditating on the floor, you think. He’s totally still.   
Mikey is annoying Donnie and Casey with a paddle-ball toy. You wonder where the fuck he got that. You kind of want one.   
April is down by Leo, but she isn’t meditating. She’s staring off into the middle-space like she’s thinking hard, her hands clumsily stretching a rubber band into a cat’s cradle. 

You suddenly wonder if the gravity is working. You feel that same stomach-twisting weightlessness in you and wonder when everyone will hit the floor. Will it be laughter or tears when they do?

Everything is quiet. You want to shatter it. 

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “Jesus, you’d think someone died in here.”  
April looks up first. You wave weakly. It’s kind of lame. 

Everyone starts shouting at once, excited and tearful and relieved, so relieved, and you lean into the first person that gets close - Donnie, it looks like. He wraps his arms around you on reflex, and then more arms are in the mix and you can hear Mikey’s voice to identify him as the one trying to wriggle into the circle of your arms. You let him because he’s hard to say no to, especially when he’s crying like that. 

Raph is next. He doesn’t push - you didn’t expect him to. He presses his forehead to the nape of yours, whisper-soft, and lets you lean back for support.   
You can’t stop smiling. Leo nearly headbutts you trying to get in on the group hug and Mikey gets replaced by April at one point, but you don’t mind. 

You made it. Everybody’s okay, including you.   
You’ve all hit the floor in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 4am and i have work today hello
> 
> god. wow. this chapter gutted me. i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.  
> from like  
> right before you get stung and on  
> is probably my favorite part.  
> i hope you like Iggy.  
> i like Iggy.
> 
> i like Mona in the series and i really wanted some sort of at least partially positive ending for her bc i do like her character in theory even if she and Raph are a little too lovesick for my tastes  
> they kinda rush her dynamic w Raph but to be fair Mikey pulls bitches in three or four different episodes (Shinigami and the time chick i think) and they only got two seconds of screen time before Mikey decided he was in love so ig i can't complain there 
> 
> anyway gn and good morning and everything in between  
> until next time :)
> 
> BONUS: JESUS CHRIST THE FUCKING FORMATTING REFUSES TO COOPERATE SO IF IT'S ONE BIG GOLIATH FUCKING BLOCK OF TEXT I TRIED TO FIX IT DAMMIT I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG BUT FUCK IT I'M POSTING IT
> 
> bonus bonus: I think I fixed it?


	9. Special Episode 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Someone’s grumpy.”  
> You don’t let up, but you do accept the water. “I don’t need you to baby me, Raph. I can get it just fine.”
> 
> “I know you can. You don’t have to, though. ‘S what I’m here for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hello again   
> okay so this is special episode 2 and has nothing to do with like  
> main plot/getting back to earth but i wanted to put in a catch-up chapter where you get some shit off of your chest and your relationship with Raph amps up a bit so Here It Is
> 
> also i'm uh  
> under the category of "so touch-starved that I'm touch repulsed" and writing the sheer amount of fluff in this chapter almost had me braining myself on my keyboard and idk if it's good but i'm satisfied with it so i hope you like it

It’s been five days since you were stung.  
Five days since you nearly died.

Donnie had given you the full rundown of it hours later - you shouldn’t have fought so hard to stay awake. Your adrenal system had gone into overdrive and kicked your pulse rate up, spreading the venom faster. 

You’re lucky you didn’t eat it right there in the sand. You’re lucky that the stinger hit bone first, minimizing the damage. You’re lucky the ship was _right there._

Raph didn’t hesitate to yell at you after, the same way he used to. You get why he did - you were way too reckless. Tears were shamelessly shed on both sides. 

You apologized through a sob that broke your voice into two clear parts and Raph had immediately pressed his face into your hair and murmured, “Sorry, ‘m sorry, I was just so _worried,_ man, I can’t-”

Mona was probably more well equipped for a hit like that, they all told you after, like you could have kept that in mind and not taken the hit for her. You saw their expectant eyes, heavy and waiting with the question of, _could you have done it? Could you have stepped aside knowing that it would logically be the best decision?_

No. 

You refused to look at them. The admission was a weighted blanket over the room.  
You saw Mona for what she was - a survivor, mirrored sideways. She tried her best and got caught in the brambles, and when you took that stinger you could only think that if you had been a little more misguided, a little more lonesome, then it might have been _you_ breaking Mona’s nose in a dimly lit cell. It might have been you to tell her to kill those first sixteen people.  
That could have been you, and you couldn’t bear it. 

So you took her place, and now Mona is on a one-month thousand-lightyear trip back to Salamandria with G’Throkka. They’re doing great - Dregg’s surveillance Vreen backed off the minute Sectoid One was evacuated, according to reports. The Vreen haven’t been seen again. 

They’ve messaged the ship a few times - short logs, really - and G’Throkka has taken up embroidery. Mona is learning a bagpipe-like instrument from another star system called the _froiltm’n._ She isn’t half bad at it. You can hear her play it from your quarters when she plays on a call.

Raph hasn’t left your side since, just barely conceding when you go to the bathroom. You always find his eyes on the door when you come back, waiting for you to return.  
It warms something in you that scrambles your brain and frazzles all of your circuits, and when you take your seat at his side again, his arm is already around you. 

So yeah, it’s been an awesome few days.

You’re still a bit resistant to coddling, though, especially now that you can move around a little bit (with Donnie’s go-ahead) and Raph isn’t letting you.  
He’s been glued to your side all morning as the two of you lay in bed (in your own quarters, God, _finally_ ) and it’s when he swats your hand away as you reach for water that you finally pull a full glower against him.

Raph laughs and offers you the water, mock-scared. “Someone’s grumpy.”  
You don’t let up, but you do accept the water. “I don’t need you to baby me, Raph. I can get it just fine.”

Raph’s brow raises. The fondness you feel at the expression forces you to put the picture of it away for later. You’re getting soft for this moron.  
You take a sip to pretend like you can ignore it and hand the glass back to him. He sets it on the nightstand and you cuss when you realize you’ve been played. 

“I know you can. You don’t have to, though. ‘S what I’m here for.”  
You wilt a little. Right. He’s just trying to help. 

He pokes your side with a wry smile. “‘Sides, it’s nice to see you weak for once. ‘S refreshing, actually. You’re so _docile._ ”  
This smug _bastard._

You sit up immediately, jostling his grip off of you, and he looks up from your pillow in total bewilderment as you swing your feet off the side of the bed. Something twinges weirdly in your lower back. You chalk it up to residual scar pain and keep moving. 

“Hey,” Raph warns, sounding a little panicked, but you’re already pushing forward onto your feet.  
You whirl around to face him, hands on your hips and legs a little shaky, and he loses his breath in a cute little sigh that you refuse to acknowledge. 

“I can…” You lose your fire a little too quickly - Raph is sprawled on your bed in your room, half leaning on his arms like he’s trying to decide if he’s going to rise or not. He’s looking at you like you the way he looked at the sky over Queens when the local power plant exploded in a neon flash of blue, awe written clear in his face.  
_It’s so beautiful,_ he’d said. You remember that very clearly. Having that look directed at you is making your heart go crazy.

Focus. You have to focus, you were arguing a point.

You try again, but you’re totally breathless. Why the fuck is he looking at you like that? 

“I can take care…”  
He takes your hands in his. His thumbs are rough against your knuckles where he’s rubbing them. They’re warm and sleep-heavy; the two of you have practically napped the days away this week. You hadn’t spent more than twenty minutes out of bed because Raph had been waiting on you hand and foot so that you wouldn’t have to exert yourself.  
The realization keeps smacking you in the face like a brick over and over and over again. 

“You don’t have to,” he insists. “You’ve done enough.”

Brick meet face. Brick meet face. _Brick meet face._  
Oh, man. That definitely hit something weird on the way down. You swear your throat is closing. You might be allergic to letting others care for you.  
You suck in a breath, and you break. 

He makes a funny little noise when you topple into him, taking you both to the bed. His arms are soft and gentle when he opens them to cradle you, taking care not to move you too quickly as you settle. 

Something ugly threatens to rattle out of your throat, so you don’t say anything. When tears burn at your waterline you press heavy into his chest trying to will them away, hiding them from his watchful eye.  
His chin fits neatly on the top of your head, even with the weird position.  
“You okay? Do I need to get Donnie?”

You laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of that, because fuck no. You laugh until the tears fall and your chest aches, inconsolably fond and yearning for something you can’t put words to.  
His hands are feather-light on your back, unsure, and you shake your head.

“Don’t fuckin’ want _Donnie,_ ” you tell him. “Just you.”  
You think of Mona, lovestruck and full of conviction. Honest and open with her feelings. You can’t measure up on the EQ scale, but with Raph’s voice in your ear and his hand at the back of your neck you feel like you can come pretty damn close.

Raph sighs, and you immediately feel bad for worrying him.  
“Sorry,” you say. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sighs again, a little lighter.  
A moment or two of silence passes. “Why’re you so quiet?”

You fight the urge to sniffle. You know you’re an overwhelmed crier, and if he knew he’d do that thing he does when he’s like, “Oh, _sweetheart,_ ” and then it’d be game over for you. You’re not in the mood for a shitshow at nine in the morning. 

You shrug. “I’m shy,” you say wryly, and you feel his laugh this time more than you hear it.  
You forget yourself for a moment, sniffle, and instantly cringe.

Raph tenses. You feel him try to move you to where he can see your face, but that’s a fight you aren’t willing to give up so easily; there are a few seconds where he wrangles you onto your back and tries to pry your hands off of your face.  
You know the instant you lose - he hooks one of his forearms through the loops your elbows offer and pulls carefully. You wonder if playing dead is an option. 

Your mouth is trying to do something downward and stupid, something sad, so you bite your bottom lip as he finally sees your face.  
His eyes are bright, you notice, like something radioactive or neon. Something you’d find in a bar, sour-sweet with a high alcohol content.  
His face softens considerably from concern to realization.

“Oh,” he says, and you dread the next word, “Oh, _shit._ What happened? Are you okay? Your back, fuck, I shouldn’t go around _manhandling_ you like that - don’t-don’t cry, I’ll go get Don-”  
You burst into startled laughter, loud and watery, and Raph stops trying to throw himself across the room and down the hallway at Mach four.

“What?” He’s frantic now, you can see. You can’t stop laughing to reassure him. “What, man? _What is happening?_ ”  
You peter out a little. “Sorry,” you take a breath. “Sorry, I-I’m okay, I was just being we-weird-”

He gives you a frazzled look that tells you to get a little more serious.  
You take a deeper breath, still smiling. “I thought I had you all figured out and you still manage to throw me for a loop.” You tip your head back to hit the pillow. “Wow, man. You really panicked there, didn’t you?”

Raph is instantly on his guard. “I did not.”  
You shrug as he lays down again. “Whatever, dude.” You think for a second. “Did you just call me _man?_ ”

He doesn’t miss a beat, turning on his side to face you: “You just _dude_ and _man_ -ed me like, twice.”  
You pull a face. “I don’t think that’s the right way to say that.”  
“You don’t love me for being grammatically correct, sweetheart,” he mutters, then adds, “And you’re lucky I love _you_ or I wouldn’t tolerate the sheer amount of fuckin’ sass you throw at me.”  
He huffs and settles down again like what he just said isn’t shaking your brain to pieces.

You freeze. “What?”  
Raph starts to repeat himself, but you cut him off. “I know what you said, it’s just - three years I’ve known you and it’s a stupid comment about grammar that gets you to say the big ILY?”  
Raph blinks. “What? No. I’ve definitely said it before.”  
“Nope,” you say surely, “Would’ve remembered.”

He pulls a face. “You mean how you ‘remembered’ your own birthday three weeks late?”  
“That was _intentional,_ I keep telling you-”  
“Are we interrupting?”

The two of you pull out of each other’s space like you’re guilty teenagers, which is stupid. You overcorrect and smack your head into the wall behind you hard enough to elicit a vocal noise from you and earn room-wide winces from Raph and the intruders. 

You sit up. Almost immediately, Raph’s hand cradles the back of your head.  
“You alright? Sounded like it hurt.”

That feels nice but also Leo and Mikey are standing by the door wow okay is it hot in here it feels hot in here.  
You bat Raph’s hand away, much to Mikey’s visible disappointment. 

“We came in to ask what you wanted for breakfast,” says Leo. His smile is a little too smug for your liking. Raph shoots him a look and he fails at playing casual. What a nerd.  
“I was thinking pizza gyoza,” Mikey adds proudly, and you snort. That guy and pizza gyoza. You’ll never understand it. 

“Sounds good to me,” you say, genuine, and Raph grunts.  
Leo nods. “Awesome. Raph, meet us in the commissary in a few and we’ll have your plates ready.”  
Mikey waves you goodbye, but not before laying a box of origami stars and fresh paper by your nightstand. A majority of them are orange.

“For when you get bored,” he explains. “I already made a few, but you’re totally cool to use all the paper!”  
The gesture warms you from the inside out.

Raph, restless, slings an arm over you as they leave and drags you back down to the bed. Your cheek presses against his neck as you consider the clinginess he’s exhibiting. 

“Raph?”

Raph grunts. You fight off a wave of affection.  
“What about Mona?”

He doesn’t really give a physical response, which surprises you a little.  
“What about her?”

Huh. You lean further into him, if possible. It feels like you’re pressed against each other at all points of your bodies. It's nice.  
“You liked her to some extent, didn’t you? I kinda thought…”  
You trail off. It’s a weird sentence to finish now that Raph has said the big words, and it feels too awkward to continue. 

“You’re right,” he murmurs, and your chest swoops low dangerously fast. “But it’s always been you, I think. I liked Mona, yeah, and I probably would’ve kept seeing her if you weren’t here. But I told myself a long time ago that you always come first in my life, even if I’m not in the top spot in yours.”

“You’re gonna give Ice Cream Kitty a run for his money if you keep talking like that,” you say, but your voice is a little choked so it doesn’t quite have the right effect.  
Raph snorts appreciatively. “That’s fair. ICK’s a real one.”

There’s a long silence.  
“Discovering it was you was the worst thing,” he says suddenly, “at first. You were so tired and ashamed of what you’d done. I didn’t know why - Donnie had apparently seen all of your gear footage and refused to share it with the rest of us. Dick,” he adds, and you laugh.  
“You really wouldn’t like what you found there,” you mutter.

“But then I saw the news coverage from the Tri-Arena, and we couldn’t see your face, duh, but your posture…” You wince. What had you looked like, again? You try to remember how you felt standing across from your opponents and only remember trying to rally strength.  
“You looked defeated, or something. There’s not really a word for it. You wouldn’t look us in the eyes all the time after the helmet came off, like you’d remember something and it’d all come crashing down again. You weren’t one hundred percent, and it hurt all of us to see you like that.”

He rolls onto his side to face you. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling. 

“I was an ass on Sectoid One,” he says. He’s trying to get you to look at him with that cute little thing he does where he tilts his head into the corner of your vision. You move your gaze to his face. “I was so caught up in Mona’s betrayal that I shut down. I was a liability.”  
You shrug half-heartedly. “We all could’ve handled it a bit better, honestly. Can’t say I blame you - you trusted Ig-” You shake your head. “You trusted Mona and she threw you to the dogs. Anyone would be shaken.”

“You didn’t shut down, though.”  
“I broke Mona’s nose, Raph.”  
Raph scoffs. “After what she did to you? Can’t say I blame you.” 

You laugh. You’re about to say something else, something sharp, but your stomach growls like it had a cue and heat rushes to your face. 

Raph’s brow raises. “I almost forgot about that,” he says, and ruffles your hair as he gets up. You’re a little disappointed that he has to leave, but you know he’ll be back within minutes, so you pull the cover over yourself and close your eyes. The warmth of Raph’s side of the bed lulls you into a doze, but you don’t sleep. 

Or so you thought. 

You dream of Dregg, standing above you on the bridge of his ship. You kneel at the foot of his throne, head down, helmet on.  
“Czach!” He’s mad, you think, he’s so mad. What was it this time? You check yourself for injury and find nothing. What’s going on? “You have failed me time and time again, but _this_ time-”  
You flinch when he smacks the side of your helmet and forces you to look left. 

The dream has changed. Mona stands above you, foot still raised, boot bloody. You’re flat on your back in the near-dark of your cell.  
“When he sees what you have done,” she says, “there will be nothing left for you. He won’t _understand._ He’s a hero. He lives by a code. What good to him is a murderer? You took fathers and brothers and mothers. Why?”  
You stare up at her. Blood gushes from your nose thickly, just as it had back then. She didn’t say this back then. She didn’t ask you these questions. 

You try, “You _told_ me to kill them, I-”  
The sole of her boot slams into your face again, inviting a fresh wave of terror and hurt.  
“You could have been better than this,” she spits at you, all rage and disappointment and triumph, “but you weren’t. You went along with Dregg, hook, line, and sinker. You almost looked a little eager for it last mission, Czach. Where are you going? What will you find there?”  
You scramble back onto your elbows when she offers a little room. 

Her eyes are molten and swirling, yellow and orange and red in the dark. Her weird newt pupils are fixed on you, pinning you in place.  
“Who will you be when you get there?”

You wake up choking, hands at your nose to check for blood. The room is dark. Looking to the door, you find that the hall is dark too, meaning that the ship is probably in night mode. 

Raph isn’t in bed with you.  
You get up, feeling a little childish as you wrap a blanket around yourself and step into the hallway. 

You find Raph on the training deck in the holo-simulator. Looking in through the window, he looks totally focused as he rips through enemies left and right. You can faintly see the shine of sweat on him from here, and his movements are a little slow.  
He must have been here a while. 

You watch him roundhouse Dogpound into a horde of ninja, sending them toppling like bowling pins.  
You appear in the simulator. _Past_ you, you mean. The one untouched by space, the one that wore jeans and soft tee shirts and hoodies and went for morning runs to clear a messy head.  
Raph whirls on you, fist halfway to your face, but freezes upon realizing it’s you. You watch as he rolls his eyes at his own subconscious antics and waves the hologram off into a scatter of pixels. 

He keeps fighting. You watch, unwilling to interrupt until he finally rolls back onto his ass and lays on the floor as he catches his breath.  
You open the door. He doesn’t spare you a glance, too engrossed in staring at the ceiling of the Lair’s dojo. 

“You always this tired after a workout? You’re getting soft,” you joke, and Raph tilts his head up to look at you. Your voice came out close to hoarse. You wince.  
He huffs, waving a dismissive hand at you the way he did to the hologram. 

You wait. He closes his eyes.  
“I’m not a hologram,” you tell him. His eyes snap open. He spins on his shell and jumps to his feet. You whistle appreciatively.  
“What’re you doing up?” He’s right in front of you now. You shrug. 

“Hungry,” you say, because you are.  
Raph responds with a grimace. “Knew I shoulda woke you up. Donnie’s a fuckin’ quack.”

You laugh at that, but it’s a little weak. You’re still shaken from the dream. Raph takes your hand in his.  
“Come on,” he says, and you allow yourself to be led out of the simulator.  
You wonder if he’ll humor you when you ask, “Where are we going?”  
“Dinner,” is all he says. Not quite what you expected, but you smile anyway. 

The two of you sit in silence for a long time before Raph says anything. You’re chewing on a piece of re-made pizza gyoza when he speaks, so you almost don’t catch it.  
“You had a bad dream,” he says. It isn’t a question.  
You smile wryly, choosing to swallow before you answer. “What gave it away?”  
“Just a hunch.” What? Was it that obvious? “You wanna talk about it?”

You stop with a piece of gyoza halfway to your mouth. You stall, adjusting your grip on your chopsticks.  
You’ve got to tell him at some point. He needs to know.  
You set the gyoza down, earning a mild look of surprise. 

“I, uh,” you tap your chopsticks together, scuff your feet on the floor. Man, this is hard. “I wasn’t - I mean, I want to - not that I want to. I don’t want to. Fuck. I need to. This is so bad why am I like this.” You set the chopsticks down. Raph is watching you with wide eyes. Breathe. Focus. Go.  
“I need you to know that I killed people while I was with Dregg.”

Raph stares at you for a long moment.  
Finally, with no discernable expression on his face, he says, “I know.”

Your brow furrows. You break eye contact. “Good people. Innocent people. Cargo delivery men and pedestrian transport pilots. Prisoners in the Tri-Arena, a whole crew of non-combatants-”  
Raph shrugs. The fact that he steals a piece of gyoza from your bowl and eats it feels like it should be illegal right now.  
“I know.”

Whatever you thought was going to happen, it wasn’t this. You find yourself wondering if the more self-destructive side of your brain wanted to ruin it all and make him blow up at you, call you a monster, finally punish you for what you’ve done.  
It feels like something you aren’t willing to admit.

You blink. Something hits the back of your hand, causing your fingers to startle.  
“Then-”

“I’m not gonna say it’s whatever, because it’s not. Obviously not to you.” He stares down at your plate. Some hysterical voice in your head tells you to eat your gyoza before he steals it. “But I know it hurts. And I know you didn’t want to. So I don’t think any differently of you. You’re strong and you made it back. That’s what matters.”

He lays his hand on your vacant ones and tilts his head to the side, angling his face to where he can see you better. In the dim of the commissary, you hope to whatever’s out there that he can’t see your expression.  
“Hey,” he says, “you’re gonna be okay. I promise.”  
You nod, afraid to say anything else. 

Mikey kicks the commissary door open.  
You’re ashamed to admit that you scream, which causes Mikey to scream, which makes Raph pull his sais off his belt.  
Mikey cries, “ _What are you guys doing in here?_ ”

You wield your chopsticks at him in the dark. “What the fuck are _you_ doing in here?!”  
“I,” Mikey says grandly, “am getting a one AM glass of choco milky. It’s routine, yo. Why are you weirdos sitting in here with the lights off?” 

Raph grimaces. “Forgot he did that.”  
You shoot him a bewildered look just before Mikey reaches over to turn the light on.  
Almost immediately, Mikey says, “Raph.”

Raph raises his brow. You don’t get to hear what he says next, because Mikey tackles him out of his chair with a warcry, sending Raph's sais clattering to the floor. You watch the two of them tumble over each other before Mikey starts trying to pin his brother. 

Raph kicks his way out of a leg lock. “Mikey, what the-”  
“You chose Mona, you stupid _ass-_ ” Mikey gets Raph by the arm and twists him on to his stomach. “You can’t play with people’s feelings like that, it’s just cruel! And Mona’s mean and likes breaking people’s _noses,_ Exhibit freaking A-”  
Mikey tries his best to gesture at you, but Raph is rapidly breaking his hold so he notes you by name. 

You step in, shoving your shock down. “ _Mikey!_ Raph didn’t choose Mona, get off of your brother!”  
The two of them knock one of the tables over and send gyoza everywhere before the words sink in. Mikey instantly goes loose, laying out on his back.  
He looks at you with round eyes. “Really?”

You facepalm. Donnie slams into the doorframe behind you trying to storm the room.  
“Where’s the emergency?!” He’s holding a singular shuriken, you notice. “I - what is going on here?”  
Raph has not moved from where Mikey left him sprawled on the floor. He looks thoroughly done with the night. You can’t say you blame him. 

“Raph,” Donnie admonishes, and Raph spreads his arms incredulously.  
“ _What?_ Mikey’s literally covered in gyoza and half under the fuckin’ table, and you look at _me?_ He tackled me first!”  
Donnie shoots him a disbelieving look as Mikey gets off of the floor. You see him eat a piece of your gyoza off of the front of his shell and mourn your lost dinner.  
You pipe up, “He’s telling the truth, Your Honor,” which makes Raph snicker. You step over and offer him a hand up that he accepts, but he doesn’t put all of his weight into it - he just takes the opportunity to hold your hand when he gets to his feet. 

Mikey hums, a glass of chocolate milk in hand. You wonder when he got that. “Yeah, that’s fair. My bad.”  
Donnie pinches the bridge of his nose. You hear April call out from somewhere in the hallway and he shouts back that everything’s fine.  
“Mikey,” Donnie says, “Take your chocolate milk and go to bed. You two-” He points at you. “ _Especially you -_ go back to sleep. You need rest.”  
You groan. “I am literally bored to tears, Donnie.”  
Donnie says, “I highly doubt that,” with a very unsubtle look directed at Raph. 

Mikey chokes on his milk. Raph laughs the ugliest laugh you’ve ever heard from him in your life.  
Donnie rolls his eyes. “Good _night,_ guys.”  
He takes his leave. After bidding Mikey goodnight, Raph leads you back to your room. 

In bed, you think back on what Mikey said, on the way his face twisted before he charged at his own brother.  
“Mikey’s something else, isn’t he?” You ask.  
“You gonna fall for him?” Raph quips back, a smile in his voice. “Your knight in shinin’ armor, all hot and ready to take down the dragon and shit?”  
“ _Hot and ready?_ ” You cringe. “What is he, a pizza?”

Raph snorts. “You didn’t say no.”  
“I already told you how I felt,” you say.  
Raph considers that for a moment. “Nah,” he says finally. “Would’ve remembered.”

You roll your eyes at having your words thrown back at you, then frown.  
“Did I really not?”  
“Nope.”  
“You didn’t technically say it, either,” you argue. “You were super indirect about it.”

Raph’s chest hitches with an indignant noise where your head lays. You smile when he tugs at the hem of your pajama top to get your attention and look up at him, your chin at his collarbone.  
“I-”  
“I love you,” you say first, because everything’s a competition and you like being a little shit. “I have for a while. We say it so many other ways that I forgot there were words for it.”  
Raph pulls a face. After a long moment of thought, he mutters, “ _Damn_ it, that was really good.”  
You shrug with one shoulder, your chin on your forearms. It’s awkward, but it gets your point across.

You raise your eyebrows at him, a little smug. “No pressure.”  
He kisses you.

When he pulls away, your face is hotter than a supernova and your shoulders have hitched up to your ears.  
With a lot more confidence than he really should have after a bold move like that, he says, “I love you too.”

You press your forehead against his chest, flustered and off-guard.  
“Yours was better,” you mutter. 

“Was it?” You feel his head hit the pillow again. “Yours had more words than mine. Got a little misty-eyed there.”  
“You did not.”  
“You don’t know that, it’s dark as shit in here.”

“You’re such an ass.”  
“You love me, though. You said the words.”  
You groan. “Never gonna hear the end of that one, am I?”  
“You can’t take it back,” he warns, “You’re officially stuck with me now.”

You snort, a little incredulous. “I figured I was stuck with you when you tried to go to the bathroom with me the other day.”  
He tenses. “You were acting weird and your back was hurting-”  
“I had a stinger through my spine! I’m gonna act weird!”  
“And then you made that comment-”  
“I just said that my legs felt stiff.”  
“And Don said you could’ve been paralyzed-”  
“Okay, but I’m _not-_ ”  
“And then you tripped-”  
“On Mikey’s nunchuck. That he left on the floor, in the walkway.”  
“And you’re so clumsy, man.”

You peel your face off of his chest.  
“You take that back, I recovered just fine!”  
Raph scoffs. You watch the line of his mouth hitch up on one side the way it does when he thinks he’s winning.  
“Yeah, on Leo’s arm. The poor guy’s face went fuckin’ nuclear when he realized what you were wearing.”

You roll your eyes. “A tank top and shorts is not that bad.”  
Raph’s brow raises. “It is when your ass is that fine.”  
Your head hits his shell with an audible _thunk._ Raph laughs, quiet and happy, and you kick his shin under the blanket petulantly.

“Fuck you,” you mutter. Your smile feels like it’s going to split your face.  
“Right now? Scandalous,” he murmurs tiredly. You hear him yawn and settle in against the inside of his arm. “You’re just mad ‘cause I won.”

You kick him in the shin again. “Good _night,_ Raph.”  
“Night, dweeb.”

You close your eyes.  
“Love you,” he says again, testing. 

You say it back without hesitation. The night passes without a hitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not shown:  
> you run into Donnie in the hallway on the way back to your room and you ask "how tf did you know abt Mikey's 1am chocolate milk runs?"  
> and Donnie looks at you with the deadest fucking look in his eye and he's like "yk that episode of OHSHC where Haninozuka's brother comes to see him and they fight the whole episode and it's finally revealed that the reason Chika doesn't like Mitskuni is bc he thinks he's some sort of freak bc he walked in on him w Usa-chan late at night having a cake orgy or whatever?"  
> and you think rlly hard abt if you've ever heard Donnie even allude to knowing what sex is and maybe Raph makes a funny noise behind you but you say that you do  
> and Donnie says "i lived that. he and Ice Cream Kitty do that."   
> and then he just leaves you and Raph standing in the hallway
> 
> anyway i've got this worm in my brain that's like "god i hate love triangles. why not just smush Donnie, April, and Casey into a poly on the side" and now i can't stop thinking abt it 
> 
> side note i hope you enjoyed it! uh lmk what you thought bc special episodes make me super nervous bc i can't use canon as a safety net but they're necessary and despite the lack of scripting i have fun writing gentle jackass Raph
> 
> uh keep in mind here that i kinda headcanon Raph as like  
> rlly well-disciplined when he wants to be in terms of his S/O? so when you're injured he just pivots on his heel and directs all of his laser focus on keeping you safe and comfy
> 
> the idea mostly comes from the fact that when Leo was injured in season 2 or 3 (i think? can't remember) and he's out for like a month or two Raph sits on that wobbly little wooden stool next to the bathtub and watches over him day and night until he wakes up, after which he's super protective and encouraging to Leo as he makes his recovery  
> (tiktok: "tell me you're obsessed w/o telling me you're obsessed-" me, stitching with a screenshot of this note: "in this essay, i will-")

**Author's Note:**

> Uh  
> I hope you liked it and uh leave... words. If you want. You don't have to.  
> okaybye


End file.
